Donatello Lost
by Mikell
Summary: #3-SEQUEL Don sets off alone from the farmhouse. He didn't count on running into trouble.When Beverly finds him in her brother's barn he's too injured and weak to escape on his own.She's afraid of her brother but there's something about his PLETE
1. Chapter 1 Donatello's Journey

**A/N: As promised, here is the third book in the series. If you've just discovered this and want to read the pre-quels, the series is as follows: Mikey in Love, Raph & Ann, Donatello Lost and Leonardo's Angel.  
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**The usual disclaimer applies, I own no turtles, mutated, ninja, bipedal, adolescent, heroic or otherwise, but once again, my thanks to the actual owners and creators, not only for sharing their creations with the rest of us, but for allowing us to play with their toys in the world of fan-fiction.**

**Thanks for reading! Happy writing, all. :)**

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**_Chapter 1 -Donatello's Journey-  
~~~_

Donatello twitched, coming awake with a painful gasp. The first thing he was aware of was an inability to move his limbs.

_Mikey, if this is one of your pranks…_

But his fingers were tingling and when he moved, something cut into his wrists. His brother's pranks were… usually… harmless. He heard a dark, low chuckle. His eyes snapped open and his confusion grew. Leaves and grass were all he could see. He sorted various smells out in his mind. Pine needles, the musty smell of earth… and a sharp, minty scent. Slowly his confused thoughts coalesced.

_I was walking… in the woods. I stopped to pick some wild spearmint. I heard a noise… That guy! He jumped me!_ Donatello squirmed, instinctively fighting what he could now feel were ropes binding his wrists, knees and ankles.

"You won't get loose," said a voice.

Don froze, a shiver running through him.

"You came offa that base, didn't ya? They're doin' some kind of weird experiments down there. Well, I'm on to them."

"What? What are you _talking_ about?" Donatello flinched as the man's heavy hand came down on his arm. The guy yanked him upright, leaning forward to stare into his eyes. He had dark brown hair, clipped short and close to his head. A small scar dipped down from his forehead partly across one eyebrow. He wore a dirty green army jacket and torn blue jeans. His eyes were steel-blue and cold as Leonardo's katanas. Don could smell whiskey on his hot breath.

"You ain't foolin' nobody," he hissed. "You'll talk. You'll tell me where you came from and what you want, or I'll make you regret the day you crawled outta that test-tube."

"I'm not telling you _anything. _All I _want_ is to go back to minding my own business," snapped Donatello, his temper rising. The man's hand flashed out, and Don's head snapped back, his cheek and jaw stinging from the open-handed slap.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" shouted Don.

"Try again," said the man. "Where did you come from? Who sent you? Who are you working for?"

"You're _crazy_." Blood trickled down Don's face from a deep scratch on his brow. This time he saw the slap coming and was able to roll his head away, so that the blow was deflected.

"I can keep this up for a long time, _turtle_," growled the man.

_So can I, Buddy,_ thought Don grimly. _So can I._

An hour later, Don's fury was smoldering with a searing heat. He'd discovered a lot about the man in that amount of time. First, he was single-minded and relentless. Don had long since lost count of the slaps and blows, always followed by the questions:

_Who sent you? Who are you working for?_

Second, he could tie knots not even an angry turtle trained in ninjitsu could break out of. And third, he was completely, certifiably insane.

_Slap_, followed by a punch to Don's lower plastron, driving out his breath and sending cramps writhing through his gut.

_It's a wonder he hasn't broken his hand. He's bleeding from hitting me there,_ thought Donatello through the haze that clouded his vision.

"Who sent you?" the man snarled. _Slap._ "Who're you working for?"

_Don't you know any other questions?_

"No… one," Don panted. "Was… just… walking…"

_Slap_. "Wrong answer."

_I figured it would be. But it's the truth! What do you want me to say?_

"Where did you come from?"

_Oh boy, new questions. Lucky me._

"The city."

"You're _lying_."

"No…" Don's voice cracked with despair just before the man's hand met his face again with a _crack_. His head snapped back and he glared at him, furious.

"I'm… telling… the truth," he managed. His mouth felt as if he'd been eating cotton mixed with glass. The metallic taste of blood was making him nauseous and the blows to his stomach weren't helping, even with the protective plastron plates cushioning the man's fists.

"I'm gonna find out where you came from, _Turtle_," growled the man, glaring at him with insanity glittering in his blue eyes. "You shouldn't of come nosin' around here. You shouldn't of thought you could mess with Jack Koban."

"I'll… keep that… in mind," Don choked out. "Let me go."

"What, so you can go back and tell your boss what you found, scoutin' around out here? Not gonna happen." The man smirked and Don was uncomfortably reminded of Raphael.

_Oh, Raph I wish you were here, bro. Is this how the PD's feel when you give them that look? This isn't good. What have I gotten myself into?_

Jack stood up. He leaned down, grabbing Donatello's upper arms, and hauled him up. He bent down, putting his shoulder against Don's plastron. Donatello squirmed and struggled, but with his hands bound uncomfortably behind his shell, and his knees and ankles tied, he couldn't do much. The man stood up, slinging Don over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"Put me _down!_" Donatello shouted, humiliated and furious. He bucked and writhed, but the man's hands clamped over his thighs, crushing his legs against his shoulder. He reached back with his other hand, grabbing the edge of Don's shell to keep him pinned down and started walking, moving through the woods with long strides as if he weren't packing a nearly two-hundred pound turtle on his back.

"Shut up, critter," he growled. "No one will here you yelling out here, anyway."

_He's right of course,_ thought Don, half-despairing. _I deliberately walked toward the thickest woods I could find. I'm five days away from the farmhouse, too far for Mike to hear me yelling. Shell, I hope he gets bored and comes looking for me soon. I can't even leave a trail… or can I? _

Don writhed again, struggling against the man's grip, determined to make him drop him, so he could leave a mark for his brothers to find. The man growled low in his throat, and shrugged his shoulder, adjusting his hold. Don twisted, managing to just scrape his shell against a sapling, marring the bark.

He kept struggling and squirming as the man carried him, marking two more trees in the same way before the man stopped, slinging him down to the ground. Don landed squarely on his shell, his wind knocked out. He barely avoided crushing his own hands by twisting to one side as he fell, but the position put him in perfect line for the man to kick him solidly in the lower plastron.

Jack knelt, grabbing Donatello's neck in an iron grip. He lifted the choking turtle, glaring into Don's brown eyes.

"Knock it _off_," he growled. "Or I'll cut your throat."

Donatello's eyes widened when he saw the wicked hunting knife in the man's hand. He held it close to his face and Don couldn't control his shiver.

"Got it, _turtle_?"

Jack's grin was triumphant when Don nodded, swallowing. The man released his throat, throwing him back into the leaf litter. Donatello choked, gagging, as his air supply returned. The man picked him up again, slinging him over his shoulder. This time Donatello didn't struggle.

_Ok, new plan. _

He swung his head, making his mask tails sway. It took a few tries, but finally he was able to snag the tail on a bush. He twisted his head, allowing his mask to slip up, nearly off… The tail sprang loose from the branch. Don didn't give up. He squirmed, shaking his head, until the mask slid over his eyes, blinding him for a panicked moment, before it slid the rest of the way off.

_There. That's a clue even Mike can spot,_ thought Don. _I just hope he can track me. I wasn't leaving much of a trail._ _This was such a bad idea. I planned for everything… Packed food, water, matches, planned for shelter, bad weather. The one thing I didn't plan on was getting lost and then jumped by a Rambo wanna-be. Why did I think I should do this, anyway? Why did I have to try and test my strength against the woods? _

_I know why. Because I've been cooped up in the Lair for a month, recovering from septic pneumonia. Because I had to get out and feel the sun, the wind again. Because I had to prove to myself that I'm strong enough to be on my own. Well, I guess I proved something all right. I've proved it's not safe for us to be alone, anywhere, ever, without a way to contact the others. I can't believe I left my shell-cel. Idiot. Now they can't even track me. Guys, I'm sorry. And when I get out of this, I'm never going to leave home without a way to reach you, ever again._

Jack walked for what felt like miles, moving through the woods tirelessly. Don was sick and dizzy from having all the blood rushing to his head, when the man stopped, slinging him to the ground again none too gently.

_Now what?_ thought Donatello. He heard the man's footsteps, and forced himself to open his eyes _I suppose it's too much to hope for that he might just go away and leave me._ He heard the man's voice, soft, almost soothing.

"Easy there. Easy, big guy. It ain't gonna hurt you…"

_I _know_ he's not talking to me,_ thought Don. He lifted his head and his eyes went wide. _A horse? Oh, no._

The man was moving around the animal. The horse was watching Donatello, the one eye he could see showing a bit of white around the edge. It snorted, dancing but the reins tied to a tree stopped it from going far. The man kept speaking to it as he untied the reins. He led it a few paces toward the turtle. The horse snorted nervously. Don couldn't help squirming, trying to scramble back, away from the animal's powerful hooves. The man chuckled grimly.

"Whoa. Easy, now. Whoa," he said, patting the horse's neck. He re-tied the animal to a tree next to Donatello and leaned down, grabbing Don's shell and rolling him onto his plastron.

Don struggled. _What is he doing now?_

"Quit your squirmin', critter," growled the man. "Unless you want to get your head kicked in."

Donatello went still. The horse danced, just a few feet from him. The man grabbed his shell again, lifting him from behind. Before Don could react, he flung him over the horse's saddle. Don's breath hissed out as his plastron hit the cantle.

The man chuckled again as he began wrapping a rough length of rope around Donatello's thighs. Don shuddered, squirming as his calloused hands shoved the rope under him, tying it to a metal ring on the saddle. Satisfied Don was secure, he untied the horse's reins and started walking.

They walked for what seemed like forever, but Don figured couldn't have been more than an hour, before the man led the horse into a clearing. Donatello was thoroughly sick of having the hard saddle pressing into his middle and the smell, sight and sound of horse. He almost sobbed with relief when the man yanked the rope loose that bound him to the saddle. He was jerked backward, off the saddle and dropped heavily to the ground once more. Don landed with a grunt. He peered blearily around. A rustic cabin was nestled in a hollow not far from where Jack had so unceremoniously dumped his load. They'd stopped outside a pole-barn next to a small fenced-in area. The man was lifting the saddle from the horse's back, setting it over the top of the split-rail fence with more care than he'd shown handling Donatello.

He slid the bridle out of the horse's mouth, and gave the animal a slap on the rump. The horse nickered and took off across the coral, trotting with his tail up and flowing like a flag behind him. Jack turned to Donatello, who scrambled backward as best as he was able, glaring, daring him to touch him.

"You gonna tell me what I want to know, critter?" he asked softly. "Last chance."

"I _told _you already," answered Don. "I'm just a guy from the city, visiting the woods for a few days. Nobody sent me. I'm not from any base."

"Have it your way." Jack grabbed him by the shell, hauling him to his feet.

"Hey! Put me _down_," yelled Donatello, squirming. Jack ignored him. He hauled the turtle to his feet, dragging him into the barn.

The man hauled him across the cold concrete and slung him down in an empty stall. Don's eyes took a few minutes to adjust to the dim light. When he could see again, his heart sank. The barn was solid, dusty and old. The beams were solid oak and the slats of the stall looked unyielding. Jack dragged him to the front of the stall.

_Good, maybe I can find something to rub these ropes against and get loose,_ thought Don, but the man wasn't finished with him yet. He stalked across the barn. Don's eyes widened when he saw him grab another coil of rope.

He sat down on a hay bale within Donatello's line of sight and began fashioning a noose.


	2. Chapter 2 Barn

**A/N: Sorry Donny. Everyone else... Yeah. Happy endings.  


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**_Chapter 2 -Barn-  
~~~_

Donatello gasped for air as the man stretched his arm out to the side, pulling the rope cruelly tight on Don's wrist.

"Stop it…" he hissed. The noose around his neck was tied off to the top rail of the stall, the rope drawn chokingly tight. Donatello had soon found that struggling made it worse.

Jack ignored him. He tied the rope off, slipped the noose off Don's neck and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Don's arms were stretched to his sides, tied down to keep him kneeling, his bound ankles trapped underneath him. The man came close, making the turtle jerk back. The ropes dug into his wrists, causing him to grit his teeth and turning his gasp into a hiss of pain. The man smiled.

Without warning, his hand flashed out, slapping the turtle. Don couldn't hold back a cry of shock and pain. The man hit him again and again until he was dizzy. Finally the slaps stopped. The man twitched his hand toward him, and laughed grimly when Donatello flinched.

"You ready to talk?" he hissed.

Don didn't bother to answer. He was concentrating on bringing enough air into his lungs.

_Breathe._ In. Out. _Just breathe. _Meditation had never been Donatello's strongest practice, but he could do it well if he had to.

_The pain is apart, unattached. Pain is an illusion._

The flash of a blade near his face shattered Donatello's concentration. The man turned the blade, letting it catch the light. Donatello's breathing hitched slightly but he refused to look up, refused to give the man the satisfaction of seeing fear in his eyes.

"You're going to tell me what I want to know, Turtle. I wonder what the scientists who made you will do when they're done with you. They sent you on a mission, didn't they? Sent you out here, maybe told you to spy out the place. They're just using you. The government's like that, you know. They use people…_ things_, and then they just throw them away. I bet they've got your dissection table all picked out. I bet they have it all set up for when you get back. Straps, lights, scalpels… Yeah, I bet they've got plans for you. Big plans."

The man's laughter was soft, cold and bitter. Donatello couldn't hold back a shudder. There was enough truth in what the man said to send shivers down his spine. If a government agency ever got hold of him, his fate would be grim indeed.

"Yeah, I've got you figured out. You're a little like me, except they _created_ you. Humans, they just use and toss out when they're done with them. Critters like you… you're expendable." He pressed the blade lazily against the side of Donatello's throat. Don shied back. He felt the blade nick him, felt the blood trickle down.

"You're wrong," he managed. "I'm not from any agency. I'm _not._ I wasn't born in a lab, in a test-tube. I was exposed to chemicals, that's all. It was an accident. No one created me. I don't have a mission. No one sent me. I was just _walking_."

"Hmm." the man rocked back on his heels, watching Donatello with narrowed eyes. "You could make this easier on yourself, critter. Just tell me what I want to know. What are you up to? You didn't come walkin' through my patch of woods by accident. Who sent you?" He twirled the knife in his fingers, reminding Don again of Raphael.

"I've told you," whispered Don. "I swear, no one sent me!"

"Then why were ya out here?" The man's eyes glittered.

"I… wanted to be alone for a while," admitted Don. He blinked. His eyes were stinging. He missed his brothers, his two new sisters, his father, his family.

"I wanted to get out of the city… Just wanted to be _free_."

_I can't believe I wanted to get away from them, even for a while. _

The man's backhand sent him backward, the ropes pulling against his sore wrists and jerking his shoulders, sending sharp pain shooting through them. In an instant the knife was a scant inch from his face. Donatello held his breath, not daring to move.

"I don't believe ya," said Jack softly. "And I bet you'll be willing to talk some more after you've hung here a while." He got to his feet, turned and walked away.

"Hey! Hey, wait, you can't leave me like this!" cried Don, struggling desperately against the ropes. The man didn't even look back.

The shadows had lengthened to evening before the man returned. Don's wrists were on fire, his shoulders creaking with protest. He'd squirmed and struggled until he could barely move, but the ropes held. He could no longer feel his legs. Jack came into the barn quietly, his boots silent on the stone floor. Donatello didn't acknowledge his presence but he couldn't help tensing up as the man approached.

To his surprise, the man didn't come near him, at least not right away. Don raised his head to watch as he broke a hay bale, carrying several flakes into the stall next to the one Don was bound to. He opened a metal can, scooping out a can-ful of sweet feed. Don's stomach clenched as the molasses smell wafted across the barn. He hadn't eaten in over eight hours, and his stomach was beginning to protest his prolonged fast.

Jack left the barn again without acknowledging Don at all. Soon he came back in, leading the sorrel gelding. The horse went eagerly into his stall. Don could hear him munching the oats and slurping water from a bucket. Finally he came to Donatello, kneeling down in front of him. Don's eyes widened when he saw that the man was holding a bowl of water.

"Thirsty, critter?" asked the man.

Don's eyes flicked to his face. He swallowed, but didn't answer. The man would give him the water, or not. Hamato Donatello would _not_ beg.

To his shock, Jack lifted the bowl to his mouth, tipping it so he could drink. He swallowed the water greedily, sucking in as much as he could before the bowl was jerked away.

Jack smiled grimly. "I figured as much. You're probably hungry by now, too. You could eat, you know. Just tell me what I want to know."

Donatello looked at him. He knew what the guy was doing. Often small kindnesses broke a prisoner faster than any torture.

"I told you," he whispered. "I _told_ you. I'm not what you think I am."

Jack scowled. He flung the last of the water into Donatello's face, followed by another slap.

"I'll _make_ you talk," he snarled. He stood up.

Don flinched back, expecting another blow, but the man whirled, stalking out of the barn. Don's heart rate sped up.

_Where's he going? What does he plan to do now? Oh, man…_Jack returned within a few minutes, this time carrying a bucket. It sloshed as he set it on the ground. He smiled grimly, seeing Don's eyes widen.

"You want water, Turtle? I'll _give_ you water," he growled. He scooped water from the bucket with a large cup, throwing it on Don.

Donatello gasped with the shock of cold. The man threw another cup, drenching him. Don began to shiver. The barn wasn't freezing cold, but the water was. The third cup was as bad as the first and so was the fourth. Jack hit him directly in the face, again and again, not allowing Donatello to catch his breath. He was drowning on dry land. Finally the cup scraped the bottom.

_It's almost over… he's almost out of water…_

The man stood up, taking his bucket and left the barn. Donatello hung against the ropes, panting. His heart twisted with despair as he heard the man returning and the slosh of the freshly-filled bucket being plopped down. The process started again. Splash, scoop, splash, until Don's breathing was ragged, gasping. He was shaking violently now, kneeling in a pool of freezing water.

"Who sent you, Turtle?" The man's voice was his voice quiet, dangerous. "Who do you work for?"

"No… no one," Don choked out. "Let… me… go." He heard the rattle of the bucket as the man picked it up again, but he fought down the urge to whimper.

The wait was made worse this time by the knowledge of what was coming when the man walked back into the barn, the bucket sloshing at his side. Jack didn't throw water on Donatello right away. He knelt next to the shivering turtle.

"I can keep this up _all night,_" he whispered. "I'll _make_ you talk. Did you know that cold doesn't dull pain? No… it makes it _worse._ If I cut you right now…" Donatello shivered as he heard the hunting knife _whoosh_ out of its sheath. "It'll burn ten times worse. You won't bleed out as fast, either. It'll take you a long time to die, Turtle. You could make it easier, you know. All I want to know is who sent you."

"No one," whispered Don again.

He heard the man growl in irritation. The blade pressed against his cheek, and Donatello braced himself for the pain. Jack twisted the blade so its edge rested against the turtle's skin, but didn't cut him. Not yet. Suddenly the knife was gone, and Donatello was hit with another wave of water. This one went on and on, continuously.

_He's dumping the bucket over my head,_ thought Donatello, fighting back panic._ I can't breathe…_ and then it was over. The empty bucket crashed into the wall and the horse in the next stall kicked the wall, skittering about nervously.

"You're gonna tell me what I want to know," growled the man.

Donatello couldn't answer. He was gasping now for breath. He heard the man's footsteps leaving the barn again. Grateful for the momentary reprieve, but terrified of what was coming next, Donatello kept his head down, trying to calm his breathing and heart rate, bracing himself for whatever Jack would throw at him.

Of all the terrible possibilities that raced through Don's mind, he wasn't expecting the man to return with his dog. Don strained backward against the ropes, pulling until they creaked, in a panicked effort to get away.

_No! No, no, no…_

He could almost feel the fangs sinking into his face, tearing his throat… The man stopped a few paces away, the snarling dog held on a taut leash. The dog pulled forward, struggling against the tether to get to the terrified turtle.

"That's right, Rufus, take a good look," growled the man. He let the leash slide in his hand. Don gasped as the dog jerked forward another inch. "Get a good look at yer dinner." Jack laughed as the dog growled low in its throat.

Don couldn't help the whimper that escaped him. The dog's paws scrabbled against the floor. Its golden eyes were wild. It snarled, jerking and tugging at the leash.

"Who sent you?" shouted the man, letting the dog have another millimeter. "Who are you working for?"

"No one!" Don's despairing cry echoed through the barn. "I swear! Just let me go! I wasn't looking for anything. I just wanted to go out in the woods for a few days on my own, I swear I'm telling the truth. Just let me go!" He felt the ropes tearing into his skin, but still he pulled with all his might as the dog's hot breath brushed his cheek.

_I'm going to die. _The panicked thought raced through his mind. _I'm sorry, guys… I'm not coming home again. This guy is going to kill me._


	3. Chapter 3 Lost

_Chapter 3 -Lost-  
~~~_

Michelangelo rolled out of bed with a groan. He sat up stretching, wincing as his joints popped and cracked as they slid into alignment.

_I wonder if Don's back yet. He should've been here yesterday. That was his plan. That's the trouble with Don, he's so stubborn about sticking to a schedule but he gets distracted. Maybe he found some weird species of plant to study. Ah, shell, bro. I wish you'd taken your phone with you so I could at least call an' remind you to come back. If you're not home today I might hafta call Leo, and he's gonna hand us both our shells. We're not ever supposed ta go out on our own like you're doing. But after so long cooped up in the Lair, I guess I'd want to get away too. I just wish Austin was here. I miss her. I even miss Raphie. The farmhouse isn't fun without the guys. _

Mike got up, scratching and slipped on his pads, belt and mask. He tucked his nunchucks into his belt and headed downstairs.

"Don! Hey, Don, are ya here, bro?" he called. His voice echoed through the empty rooms. "Don! Hey, Don-a-tellllooo!" he yelled, checking the bedrooms for good measure. No purple banded brother appeared. Mike made his way into the kitchen. The coffee maker stood sad, silent and empty.

Michelangelo sighed. _Don's definitely not here,_ he thought. _The first thing he'd do is make a pot of coffee. I wonder if he's going into withdrawal without it. It's been like five days already. He said he'd be home in four. _

Donatello had been so ill recently; Mike was starting to worry.

_What if he had a relapse, out there in the woods? What if he's still really sick? April said he was finally over the pneumonia, but he only started training again a few weeks ago. Sensei said the fresh air up here would be good for him. I hope he was right. Ah, shell, Donny. I know you said not to come after you and not to let Leo know you were goin' on this Spirit Journey thing, but you've been gone too long. I'm bored and there's nothing to do and I miss Austin. It's time to go home, Don._

Mike stood on the porch, wavering. Finally he went inside and grabbed a small duffle bag. He started tossing in supplies.

_Better take some snacks. An' a first-aid kit, in case Don hurt himself. Maybe my Game-Dude in case I get bored… _

The bag packed, he headed out the door in the direction his brother had taken. It didn't take long to pick up the trail. Fortunately there hadn't been any rain all week. The leaf litter obscured Donatello's footprints, but occasional small wounds on saplings showed where his shell had scraped the bark and bent-over grass marked where the purple-banded turtle had walked.

Mike moved swiftly, hoping his brother hadn't gone too far, but knowing Don probably covered a lot of ground in the time he'd been gone.

_I hope it doesn't take me five days to find you, bro. I have a bad feeling about this. But you probably weren't moving very fast. You like to stop and look at the bark on the trees an' stuff like that. _

Mike noticed a small patch of white stems where Don had collected some mushrooms. He grinned.

_Typical Don. Collectin' samples. I hope you know what you're doing. We all know not to eat mushrooms out here. And I guess if anyone would know which ones were safe, it'd be you, bro._

He hurried on through the trees, moving as swiftly as he could without losing the trail. A sound to his left made Michelangelo turn, startled. He crouched, snatching his nun-chucks from his belt. A very startled mother fox flashed him a golden-eyed stare before disappearing into the brush. Mike relaxed with a grin.

_Oh, man. I wish Austin was here. She'd love to see something like that,_ he thought with a pang. _I miss ya, Baby. I miss you so _much.

Michelangelo shook his head sadly, and started walking again.

_The faster I find Don, the faster I can get home to you. I wonder what you and Ann are doing tonight. It's your night off. Maybe you guys are watchin' a movie… I wish I was there with you. Or you were here with me. _

Mike's thoughts were distracted. When he looked down again, he realized he'd lost the trail.

_Oh no. Oh man. How'm I gonna find him now?_ He turned slowly on the spot, looking all around. There was nothing to indicate another mutated ninja had ever passed through the patch of woods he was standing in.

_Oh man. Leo's gonna kill me if I lose Donny._

Michelangelo walked back the way he'd come, searching the ground for the smallest crunched leaf or grass blade out of place, but the thick foliage above his head only allowed the most filtered sunlight through, keeping the grass from growing on the forest floor.

A flurry of movement a few feet ahead had his gaze snapping up in shock. A mouse dashed across the leaf litter, past a broken twig. Once Mike's heart came down to a more normal rhythm, he edged forward to examine the branch. It was a tiny, bent twig, pointing north, but there was a thread trailing from the ragged bark, a tiny trace of the binding that kept Don's leather knee-pads stitched together. Michelangelo breathed a sigh of relief. He'd found the trail once again.

More carefully this time, he went forward, watching for any other sign that his brother might have changed direction or veered off to examine some interesting piece of flora or fauna. He saw no sign that Donatello had turned aside, so he kept going, praying to whatever divine entity watched over mutated turtles that his brother was not far ahead and more importantly, that he was ok.

The day was stretching into evening when Mike realized the light was getting too dim to see the trail properly. He'd been walking for an entire day. Mike looked around the darkening trees, swallowing hard.

_These woods are a lot spookier at night. Colder, too. Maybe I'd better stop here. But I don't wanna sleep outside, without even a tent. If I sleep in a tree, I can build a sort of nest… but then I can't have a fire. Fire is good. Light and warm are both good. I guess I'd better build a shelter like Leo taught us. I hope I can make it stay up. I hope bears don't like fires. Or wolves. I wonder if there are any wolves out here…_

Michelangelo shivered.

He walked a short distance into the woods, searching for large branches to form the basis of his shelter. Soon he found several lengths of sturdy locust. Avoiding the thorns, he lashed them together using spare leather thongs from a pouch in his belt.

Soon he'd built a small but sturdy frame. He set about gathering pine branches and laying them over the frame to form a mostly water-proof roof. Satisfied that the shelter would at least cover him while he slept, he began clearing a small space to build a campfire. He brushed away the leaves and debris to expose bare dirt.

Taking a small knife from his belt, he began carving small sticks, feathering the bark so they'd burn. He made a sloppy but effective little tee-pee with his sticks and tucked some dry leaves in around the edges. He lit them carefully, blowing on the small fire as it began to hungrily lick the feathered sticks.

When he had a small blaze going, he added larger branches, breaking them into manageable pieces by stepping on them. Soon he had quite a bright little fire. It burned hot, throwing very little smoke. Michelangelo smiled to himself.

_Gee, Don, I guess I can see why you wanted to come out here. It's kinda nice. It'd sure be nicer if I had somebody to cuddle up to, though. I wish Austin was here…_ he thought again with a sigh.

_Even one of the guys. They're not as much fun to cuddle with, but at least they'd be company. I hope I find you tomorrow, bro. I don't like sleepin' out here by myself. _

He drifted off to sleep, the crackling warmth of the fire soothing him.

Michelangelo woke with a start and groaned. He was stiff and sore from lying on the ground. The fire had long since burnt out. The trees loomed around him in the early morning beginnings of dawn, tall and intimidating like a scene from a horror movie. Mike sat up, stretching, staring warily around. A sound made his hand jerk toward his weapons.

_That sounds like… something walking… something big. Not far off, either. I'd better make myself scarce. _

Moving quickly, he dismantled his shelter, scattering the pieces silently as possible. He kicked leaves and debris over the blackened spot, covering the remains of the fire. Hearing the sounds moving in his direction, Mike took to the trees, disappearing into the foliage. He watched from his perch for a long, tense time as the slow footsteps came closer. A figure emerged from the trees, dark and ominous in the growing morning light. A man, riding a large, sturdy horse, came into view. The horse snorted lightly as it came to where Mike's makeshift camp had been.

"Whoa, boy." The man gave the reins a little jerk, and the horse stopped, pawing at the ground nervously. The man dismounted, his gaze on the ground. Mike swallowed hard at the way the guy moved. There was something familiar about him…

_He reminds me of Agent Bishop. The way he moves. So deliberate and… smooth somehow, too smooth. This guy's not your average citizen. _Mike kept absolutely still and silent, watching.

The man knelt, touching the ground. He rubbed the leaf litter under his palm and sniffed his fingers.

_I wonder if he's gonna lick the dirt like in the movies,_ thought Mike, and had to stifle a snicker. He watched as the man stared at the ground. He was hunched over, so Mike couldn't see his face, but the tense way he held his shoulders told Michelangelo he was focused, intent on finding whatever clues he could gather from the scattered forest litter. Suddenly Mikey wished he'd done a better job of hiding his campsite. The guy sent chills shivering down his spine.

Finally the man stood up. He looked around, scanning the trees. Michelangelo had the fleeting impression that he had x-ray vision.

_Like Superman,_ thought Mikey. _Dude, just don't look up here. I really don't feel like having to run this morning. It's too early, seriously. I haven't even had breakfast yet. Just move on out. That's it. Just get on your horse and ride off… there's nothing to see here…_

Mike breathed a sigh of relief as the man re-mounted his horse and rode slowly off into the trees. His eyes widened when he saw the glint of a rifle stock, tucked into a scabbard on the horse's saddle.

_Oh shell. The guy's a hunter. It's a good thing he didn't look up. I have a feeling he wouldn't hesitate to hunt a treed turtle if he got the chance._

He stayed in his place a while longer, making sure the man really had left the area, before climbing carefully down. After the encounter with the man, Michelangelo moved even more swiftly and carefully through the trees. He didn't whistle as he walked along, just kept sharp eyes trained on his surroundings and half an ear open for any sound that might indicate the man was returning the way he'd come. The woods were silent except for the calls of birds and the occasional sound of a small animal scurrying through the leaf litter.

Mike was beginning to think he'd lost Donatello's trail entirely. He was considering the wisdom of using his shell-cell to contact Leonardo when something about a branch lying behind a small copse of poplars caught his eye. The branch was too straight, too perfect somehow. Michelangelo's eyes narrowed behind his mask.

He approached as carefully as if the harmless bit of wood were a snake, ready to strike. When he came closer, a strangled cry escaped his throat. Donatello's bo lay abandoned in the leaf-litter, the purple wrapping stained with fresh dirt.

Mike picked up the precious staff, brushing slugs off. "Eeeww," he muttered, shaking one of the slimy creatures off his fingers. He tucked Don's bo into the back of his own belt and began casting around for any other signs of his brother. There was an obvious disturbance of the leaves.

_Looks like a struggle. I wish Leo were here. He could probably look at it and tell exactly what happened and who fell where. At least there doesn't seem to be any blood. Still, Don wouldn't leave his bo. Not willingly. Not if he were able to hold on to it. Oh shell, Donny. What's happened to you? Where are you? Don't worry, Bro. I'm comin' for you. I won't let you down._

It didn't take Mike long to find an indentation in the litter that looked as though something heavy had been set down. Frowning, he studied the twin indentations.

_It almost looks like he was… kneeling,_ he thought. _Don on his knees? No way. No way…_ Michelangelo felt sick. _He's in trouble. This is too big for me. We need help. I need help getting Don back. I'm gonna have to call the guys. But first, I've got to find my brother._


	4. Chapter 4 And Found

**A/N: No time for a long note this morning, I'm working all this week, so this is an on-the-fly posting.**

**This is the chap many of you have been waiting for. Poor Bev, she has no idea what she's getting herself into. heh**

**

* * *

**_Chapter 4 -And Found-  
~~~_

Beverly Koban pulled into her brother's yard and slipped the truck into park. She hopped down, and walked toward the cabin, mindful of the dog sleeping under the porch.

"Hey, Rufus," she called. The huge brown dog lifted his head and barked a greeting before lying back down. "Jack? Jack, are you here?" Her voice was soft, but not timid. She stepped up on the porch and tried the door, finding it locked. She sighed.

_Leave it to Jack to be out. He knew I was coming with his supplies today.__ And I really must speak with him about the property tax. Maybe he's just avoiding me. Guess I'd better check the barn. _

Stepping off the porch, she crossed the yard. The barn door was latched, but Beverly knew another way in. She walked around the building, finding the loose board and slipped through. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.

_I remember hiding in here as a child,_ she thought. _The hayloft made a great fort from which to defend my own personal castle…_

"Jack, I've brought the supplies you wanted. Jack, are you here? I need to talk to you." She came up to the horse's stall, glancing over the door, but it was empty.

"Blast."

_Well, if he took the horse, he really isn't here. Guess I'll have to visit him another day,_ she thought.

She turned to go, when a slight movement in the next stall caught her attention. She took two steps and peered into the dim shadows. Her hands flew to her mouth in shock.

Kneeling, bound to the stall, was the strangest and most beautiful creature she'd ever seen. His skin was a dull olive color, and his back was covered with what looked like a giant turtle shell. When he looked up, her heart caught in her throat. A belt had been wrapped under his jaw, crossed over the top of his mouth, and buckled behind his head, creating a makeshift muzzle. He peered up at her through the dim light, his intelligent eyes clouded with fear and despair. Beverly shivered.

_Oh, Jack, what have you done?_

After a moment's hesitation, she knelt beside the creature. She reached up, slowly, cautiously, and touched his face. He winced, pulling back as well as he was able. The ropes kept him from going far. She flinched at the movement, withdrawing her hand. Crossing her arms over her stomach, her shoulders hunching slightly, she sank down on a hay bale and stared at him, wide-eyed. He was exhausted. She could see it in the way he slumped forward, panting, allowing the ropes bound too tightly around his wrists to bear his weight.

_I wonder how long he's been here? I haven't been to Jack's place in nearly a month, but surely he hasn't had this creature prisoner for that long. _

She saw grooves worn deeply into the wood, where he'd been pulling at the ropes, desperation loaning him the strength to crease the solid oak. She shivered.

_He's not going anywhere,_ she told herself.

Not with his arms stretched out to his sides, bound to sturdy wooden beams on either side of the stall, keeping him in a kneeling position. His ankles were bound as well, trapped under him, pinned beneath that magnificent shell.

His olive-green skin, under her fingers, had been cool… too cool, almost cold, though the old barn wasn't near freezing. She slid off the hay bale and knelt beside him again, gathering courage from his obvious helplessness. He twitched, seeing her move and the ropes creaked with his efforts to escape, his eyes going wide with fear.

"What _are _you?" she whispered. "You're no animal. Your eyes are so…" She trailed off, watching him. "I wonder if I took that thing off, if you could _speak_."

She heard the hiss of his sharply indrawn breath as her fingers brushed the belt's buckle. He flinched away from her touch, twisting his head to the side to evade her. She felt her heart squeeze in her chest.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said softly.

_As if I could,_ she thought. _If you were loose, I'd never get near you. The muscles in your arms alone…How on earth did Jack get hold of you? _

He went still again and turned his head toward her, not quite meeting her gaze. He held himself tense, waiting. Cautiously, she slid the strap out of the buckle, tugging at it until it fell away. He held himself absolutely still, quivering with tension and staring at a spot somewhere beyond her on the floor.

"There… is that better?" she whispered, lifting the strap away from his face. She knelt beside him. He still refused to look at her. She stayed there, watching him, for a long time. She reached up, laying her hand on his bicep, and traced her fingertips over his skin, fascinated by the texture. Finding a series of small imperfections in the smooth skin, lower on inside of the forearm, she frowned, exploring gently with her fingers.

He shivered. "Don't." The word was barely a whisper.

She froze, staring. "You _can_ speak. You're no animal. I knew it." Slowly, painfully, he turned his head. The dark eyes came up to meet hers. She caught her breath. In an instant, she was on her feet, backing away. She half-expected him to attack her, though he was still bound, helpless. He watched her for a moment before turning away again, his gaze returning to some spot behind her. He looked… resigned to his fate.

That look made up her mind. Reaching for a small sheath at her belt, she drew her small, but very sharp, knife. She approached him cautiously. His eyes snapped up, focusing on the blade in her hand, and going wide.

"_No_!" There was such anguish in his voice that she froze, staring. "Not again… leave me alone!"

The creature moaned, twisting and straining to avoid her touch. His breathing was quick and shallow, and hitched when she laid her hand on his arm. The tiniest of moans sounded in the back of his throat, and she felt a faint trembling under her fingertips. The muscles in his arms rippled as he squirmed, struggling against the ropes.

"Leave me alone…" The hoarse plea was quiet, despairing.

_What on earth did Jack do to him?_

She drew a deep breath. "If you promise not to attack me," she said softly, "I'll get you out of this."

Wide brown eyes came up, meeting hers, confusion and terror showing clearly. She tried a reassuring smile.

"You must promise," she said. She saw the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed. He looked at her for a long time. She met his gaze steadily.

Slowly, as if movement were painful, he nodded.

Taking a deep breath, the woman took his hand in her own. He flinched at the contact and his panicked struggles against the ropes renewed. She tightened her grip on his hand, trying to pin his arm so she could cut the rope. A whimper escaped him, half strangled, as if he were trying to hold it back.

"Hold _still_," she hissed. "The knife is sharp. I don't want to cut you."

He froze again, his chest heaving as he drew deep, shuddering breaths. Feeling his surrender, Beverly laid the blade against the rope, letting him see what she was doing. This time he held almost painfully still, only slight tremors making his fingers twitch. Slowly, carefully, Beverly sliced through the rope, strand by strand. Soon, the bond fell away. His arm fell heavily to his side, and he grunted in pain.

She moved to his other side and repeated the process. Before he could move, she took hold of his shell and hauled him up, backward off his knees. He tried to jerk away, startled, but he was too weak to evade her grasp.

"Take it easy," she soothed. She could feel him shivering. His skin still felt too cold. She laid him down in the stack of loose hay and knelt to slice the ropes binding his feet. This time he was still, letting her cut the ropes without protest. His brown eyes followed her every movement as she re-sheathed her knife. She stood up and fetched the only blanket she could find in the barn and pulled it over him. It smelled warmly of the horse it had covered not long ago. He glanced at her in surprise.

"You're cold," she said simply. "You need to warm up."

"Th… thank you," he managed.

Beverly smiled. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Donatello."

"Donatello," she said, keeping her voice soft. "Wait here. I've got to get the supplies I brought for Jack out of the truck. He knew I was coming. He'll be suspicious if he sees my tire tracks and the stuff isn't here. As soon as I do that we'll get you out of here, ok?"

Donatello nodded, still watching her with those unfathomable brown eyes. She gave him a smile before heading out to take the bags of groceries she'd brought her brother. Coffee, sugar, fresh fruit, all the things Jack couldn't grow for himself out here and refused to go into town after.

_Whatever he is, he's hurt. __He needs medical attention. __I can't leave him here, can't let Jack... _

She stacked the groceries on the porch and headed back to the barn. Donatello hadn't moved. He was lying in the hay, his eyes closed. She regarded him for a moment.

_The poor thing. I wonder where he came from, and how he had the incredible bad luck to run into Jack._

She went to him cautiously and knelt down. "Do you think you can walk now?" She spoke softly, but his eyes snapped open and he flinched away. She shifted, rocking back on her heels, giving him a bit of space.

"I… don't know," he rasped. He swallowed again, clearing his throat. "I'm afraid the circulation was cut off in my legs from the way I was… sitting."

Beverly's eyes widened, hearing the way he talked, the vocabulary and inflection of his voice making it clear he was intelligent.

_He's not an animal at all, despite his appearance. _

He tried to sit up.

"Let me help you," said Beverly.

She reached out to grasp his arm and he held up his hands in defense, pushing her away as if he expected her to attack him. He scrambled to his feet, leaning heavily on the side of the stall. His breath come in short, panting gasps that hissed through his teeth. Beverly rushed forward, catching him as he fell forward to his knees. He flinched violently at her touch, but she didn't let go.

"What are you _doing_?" She lowered him gently down, relaxing only when his weight rested on his hands and knees.

"I have to get out of here," he said.

She felt him shiver. Beverly shook her head.

"Do you really think you can get away from here on your own? Donatello, you're obviously hurt. My brother will be back at any moment. You've got to let me help you."

"Jack…" A coughing fit shook him, but he managed to glance up at her. "Jack is your _brother_?"

_I shouldn't have told him that. He'll never trust me now. And who can blame him? But he needs help._

"Yes." She met his gaze steadily. "Will you come with me? I'll take you back to my place. I can hide you from him until you're well enough to fend for yourself."

Holding onto the boards, he managed to get to his feet again. "How… how do I know I can… trust you?" The brown eyes gazed into hers. He was shaking with exertion, leaning heavily on the slats of the stall. Beverly was amazed he could stand. The rope burns on his legs and wound on one ankle looked painful and he was obviously weak.

She shook her head, frustrated. "You don't," she said. "But what other options do you have?"

Donatello watched her. Finally he nodded, seeming to make up his mind. "Ok."

"You can't walk far, can you?" Beverly looked him over critically. "You can barely stand. I'll pull the truck up as close as I can to the barn," she told him. She started toward the door.

"Wait," croaked Donatello. She paused, looking at him over her shoulder. "What's your name?"

"Beverly." She flashed him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Beverly Koban."

She unlatched the barn door from the inside and hurried to move the truck, backing as close as she dared to the barn but mindful not to drive on the grass where the tire tracks would show clearly. Satisfied that she'd be able to get the turtle into the truck, she headed back to the barn.

"Come on," she said, going over to Donatello. He shrank back so sharply he nearly fell backward. She caught him firmly by the arm, pulling it over her own shoulders, and draped her other arm around his shell, supporting him.

"Relax. I'm helping you, remember?" She met his bleak look, and shook her head. "I'm not like my brother. Come on. Lean on me," she instructed.

His hitched breathing and the way he trembled against her told her how frightened he still was. He seemed reluctant to let her help him, half pulling away as he struggled to keep his weight on his own feet.

"Come _on_, she hissed finally, after he stumbled for the third time. "Don't be afraid to lean on me. I pack deer out of the woods during hunting season. Trust me, I can handle it. I could carry you if I had to. You can't weigh more than two hundred pounds."

"A hundred eighty-six, actually," said Donatello.

She glanced at him, and grinned. "Sorry. A hundred eighty-six, then."

_Probably less. You look as though you've lost weight recently._

His eyes darted around the yard as they stepped out into the light. He shivered in the warm sun. Beverly looked at him and gasped, noticing the small cuts along the length of his free arm.

_Those look deliberately inflicted,_ she thought. _They're far too clean to have been accidental. No wonder he was so afraid of the knife._

Donatello was trembling violently, his eyes wide. She followed his gaze to the porch where Jack's huge dog was sleeping and shook her head. "Don't worry about Rufus," she said gently. "He won't bother you as long as you're with me."

"I… got loose, a few days ago," he told her. "When he took me out of the barn to…" He trailed off, a blush staining his cheeks. "I almost made it to the woods… Jack sic'd the dog on me. He bit me."

"That would explain your ankle," she said softly. "I figured that couldn't all be rope burn. How bad is it? Is it broken?"

"I… don't know," he said.

"He's trained for hunting wild boar," Beverly explained. "When Rufus bites, he doesn't let go. His bite can break bones. You're not the first person he's bitten. Jack uses him for hunting, but also to protect the house."

She led Donatello over to the rusted red truck and reached past him to open the door. He struggled to get his leg up to the door-sil, but he couldn't quite lift himself up to the seat. Beverly put one hand on his elbow, and the other against his shell, giving him a boost. He glanced at her, looking shocked. She smiled.

"I told you I could lift you," she said.

Donatello gave her a faint half-smile. She watched him relax into the seat, laying his head back as the short walk had worn him out too much to hold it upright any longer.

Beverly closed the door and headed back to the barn. There was one more thing to attend to before she could leave: removing the evidence. She quickly cut the ropes away from the stall slats. She put the horse's blanket back on its hook and brushed the dust over the floor to mask any marks her boots might have left. Satisfied she'd obscured any clue to her presence in the barn, she headed back out to the truck leaving the door unlatched to show the turtle had escaped that way. She tossed the ropes in the back and climbed in on the driver's side.

"Let's get out of here," she said.

Donatello was watching her. He wasn't quite cringing, but his arm was pressed close to his side as if to shield his body and he'd shifted over until the edge of his shell was tight against the door. Beverly glanced at him.

_He's still afraid of me. Poor guy. Well, Jack has that effect on people. _

"What… what do you want the ropes for?" he asked.

"If Jack sees they're cut, he'll know you had help getting away," she explained, putting the vehicle into gear and pulling out of the driveway.

_Is that why you're so nervous? You thought I would tie you up again? _She glanced at him.

"Are you ok? You're awfully pale."

"'m fine," whispered Donatello. He relaxed slightly, but Beverly noticed he was still sitting turned slightly toward her, as if he wanted to keep her in his line of sight.

"Don't worry," she said. "You're gonna be ok now." She reached over to pat his knee. He jerked, gasping.

She scowled. "When we get to my place," she said, half to herself, "I'm going to _burn_ those ropes."

She heard the turtle's startled chuckle and her frown melted into a half-smile.

_Wow. He's got such beautiful eyes and a nice laugh, too. Whatever he is, he's amazing. Now if I can just keep him safe from my brother._


	5. Chapter 5 Rest

**A/N: I have had it up to HERE with stubborn, bone-headed turtles. *grumbles* When are they going to get it- this is supposed to be a series of ROMANCES. Don, you doofus, you're supposed to _like_ her. :-p  
**

**Well, I guess after what Jack put him through, Don's entitled to a little paranoia. *sigh*  
**

**

* * *

**_Chapter 5 -Rest-  
~~~_

Donatello relaxed a little on the ride to Beverly's home.

_When I saw her get those ropes, I thought she was in on it and this was just some new form of torture, but the way she looked at me… I can't believe she's in league with Jack. Maybe she really is just trying to help. Anyway, I'm out of that barn. Mike must be worried sick. Oh, Mike, I'm so sorry. I told you not to follow me, told you not to tell anyone what I was doing. _

When she pulled into the driveway, his eyes widened. He'd expected another rustic little cabin, not a neat little farmhouse with recently painted wooden siding. A few flowers cheered the front steps. It looked warm, cozy and inviting. Beverly came around to the passenger side, and helped him climb down. He swayed, cursing his own weakness, but let her help him into the house. They stood at the base of the stairs. Don leaned heavily on her, panting.

_I'm not totally over that pneumonia, _he thought. _No way should I feel this weak. It'll be a wonder if I don't have a relapse, after the water he's dumped on me every night._

"How about a shower?" Her nose wrinkled. "No offense, Donatello, but you smell."

Don shivered. _Warm water, not cold._

"A shower would be _great_," he said aloud.

"Come on." She led him toward the stairs. It took a while, but by taking frequent breaks, they managed to get to the second floor. He was shaking, covered with a new sheen of sweat, by the time they reached the top. She led him to the bathroom. Don felt weak as a hatchling as she turned on the water for him and even helped him into the tub.

"Are you gonna be ok?" she asked.

Don nodded. "I'll be fine."

She went out, leaving him alone. Don took a deep breath, fighting down the urge to run away from the water. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes against another wave of dizziness. Fighting down the fear that spiked through his chest when the water poured over his face, he tipped his head back to let it trickle into his mouth. Even warm, it was delicious, soothing his sore throat.

_Jack's laughter rang out as the water splashed over Donatello. Again and again, he threw the cups of water, until the stream was nearly continuous, not allowing Don to take a breath…_

He didn't feel himself falling until it was too late. Pain shot through his shoulder as he crashed to the floor, pulling the shower curtain down with him. He heard Beverly's startled shout, and running footsteps, but he couldn't so much as lift himself up from the floor as she darted in, kneeling beside him.

"Oh, Donatello, what did you _do_?" she asked.

_No!_ Don squirmed away from the woman's touch. _No more… I can't breathe! _He was gasping, shaking. _No… but the water is warm. She's not Jack. She's not throwing it in my face. It's just a shower. I've taken a lot of showers. I'm not going to drown in the shower. I'm _not.

"Maybe…" he whispered. "Maybe a shower… isn't a good idea."

"I agree," said Beverly. She helped him sit up and reached over to shut off the water. "How about a bath instead?"

Don took a deep breath. He felt tired… too tired to argue. "Ok," he whispered.

Fifteen minutes later, Hamato Donatello was blushing more than he had in years. The shy turtle squirmed as Beverly rubbed the rag over his shell, scrubbing at the whorls. He could feel every movement as if through a velvet glove, and the scent of her shampoo as her hair brushed against his neck wasn't helping his composure.

"Will you hold still and let me do this?" she asked, exasperated. "I'm just trying to help you. You smell like Jack's horse."

"Well, you're the one who warmed me with his blanket," Don shot back.

"Would you rather I'd left you to freeze?" she asked.

Donatello shuddered in spite of himself.

She caught his gaze. "I'm sorry," she said.

"It's ok. I appreciate the help, I really do. I… don't know how much longer I would've lasted," he shivered again, his brown eyes bleak.

She dunked the rag into the water, letting it drain over his back to rinse away the soap. He hissed, leaning forward to escape when she began gently sponging the back of his neck, washing under the lip of his shell.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Do you want to do this yourself?"

"I… I can't," admitted Don. His shoulders felt stretched out and torn from hanging by the ropes. He couldn't lift his arms more than a few inches.

"Am I embarrassing you? Donatello, I used to be a nurse. I've given people sponge baths a lot more intimate than this. Though, I have to admit, most of my patients weren't green." She smiled.

Don relaxed slightly. _She's a nurse. No wonder she's so comfortable with helping a total stranger, not to mention a turtle, with taking a bath_.

Of his brothers, only Mikey was more tactile than Donatello. Where Mike sought out touches of affection, though, Don touched his brothers to check them for injuries; to be sure they were well. As the resident medic, Don understood the need for touch. Still, he couldn't help squirming a bit as she brushed the rag over his sensitive skin.

"It's… ok," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He coughed again, clearing his throat with an effort.

"As soon as we're done, I'll get you a drink, ok?" said Beverly. "Are you hungry? You must be."

Don took a deep breath. "Something to drink would be nice," he said.

She leaned back, looking into his face, and stood up. "Here." She grabbed a paper cup from a dispenser beside the sink, filling it and handed it to him. Donatello hesitated only a moment before reaching for it.

_It's just water… A _little_ cup. _He gulped it down gratefully.

"Thanks," he said. His voice sounded better now, not so raspy.

"I should've thought to give you something to drink before," she said contritely, picking up the rag again. "I'm sure Jack wasn't exactly bringing you food and water." She brought it toward his neck, and Don shied away instinctively.

"Hey, take it easy. Geez, are you always this jumpy?" she asked.

_No, just after I've been tortured by a madman, who happens to be your brother, for a week,_ Don thought.

He drew a shuddering breath. "Sorry," he managed. "It's just… I'm not used to… being taken care of. I feel so foolish. And Jack…" He couldn't control the shiver.

Beverly's hand stilled. She leaned back a bit to gaze at him sympathetically. "He really hurt you, didn't he? Of course you're nervous. I'm sorry. I should've realized."

"You didn't do anything," said Don, feeling his cheeks flame. "It was my own stupid fault. I should never have let him sneak up on me."

"How did he catch you, anyway?"

"I'm an idiot." Don's voice was bitter.

***

_He walked through the woods, nearly silent even on the dry leaves. The trees seemed to loom over him, hemming him in, but not threatening. _

_There's something peaceful about walking in the woods in the late afternoon,_ _he thought. Something that calms the mind. I see now why Leo likes to meditate out here. It's quiet. Almost too quiet. Hmmm… Is that wild spearmint? _

_Donatello knelt, gathering some of the precious leaves and tucking them into a pouch in his belt. Sensei will enjoy these once they're dried. He can add them to his tea._

_He didn't hear the man coming. There was a flicker of movement behind him, the only warning before a weight crashed into his shell, knocking him forward, pinning him to the ground. He'd twisted and squirmed but his bo was trapped against his shell. A sudden blow to the back of his head had him seeing stars and spots and sent his senses whirling. _

_What the shell? He tried to sit up, tried to throw off the weight, but it was no use. The dizziness and the weight crushing the oxygen from his lungs were combining to steal his last vestiges of consciousness. _

"_Gotcha." The man's gravely voice and the cruel laugh were the last things Donatello heard before the blackness took him._

_***_

"He hit me from behind," said Don grimly. "I can't believe he snuck up on me like that. I never heard him coming."

_And if Leo finds out, he'll have me training blindfolded for the next six months to improve my perception of my surroundings,_ he thought bitterly. _So much for being able to handle myself alone._

"Jack had Special Forces training in the army," said Beverly. "He moves like a cat. And he knows these woods better than anyone."

Moving slowly, letting Don see what she was doing, she brought the rag up to his neck again and began sponging away the sweat and dust accumulated there.

Donatello closed his eyes and fought the urge to push her away. When she wiped the front edge of his plastron, he couldn't bear the contact any longer and leaned back to escape. She sighed, catching the back of his shell and holding him in place while she washed him.

"Special Forces?" Don asked, trying to distract himself from his discomfort.

"Yes. He was in the army. He was discharged about two years ago. He was mean when he went in, but when he got out…"

Don felt her hand tremble.

"He's… not right. He's paranoid… you know, always spouting conspiracy theories and looking for Martian invaders…"

"Well, I'm not from Mars," said Don with a faint grin.

"Good to know. Seriously, can I ask… I mean, I don't want to offend you…"

"No, it's ok." Don sighed. "Ask."

_I'm surprised you haven't already._

"Well, have you always been…"

"A turtle? Yep. All my life." Don saw her skeptical look and smiled. "I was exposed to some mutagen as a hatchling. It fell out of a truck. The canister broke and leaked into the city sewer system, and here I am."

"That's… amazing." Beverly's eyes were wide. "I mean, when you consider the possibilities…"

"Yeah, genetics is a fascinating area of study," said Don with a smile. "I've spent most of my life studying how DNA works."

"So you're actually… a mutant?"

"Yep. Half turtle, half human," he said with a smile. "As near as I can figure, anyway."

"You seem human enough to me," said Beverly.

Donatello felt a little thrill shiver up his spine as her fingers brushed his shoulder.

"I'm just glad I found you before Jack had a chance to do any more damage."

Don grinned weakly. "Me too."

Finally she took her hand away from his neck, and Donatello was able to draw a breath. Beverly stood and backed up a bit, sitting on the seat of the toilet. She reached under the cabinet and pulled out a large, fluffy towel. She held it out as Donatello got slowly to his feet.

"Careful, now. I don't want you falling over again," she said.

"I'm ok now," he said.

She snorted. "Nice try, but you're not 'ok'. The way you move shows you're in pain. What did he do to you?"

Donatello shook his head. "I'm fine," he muttered.

_Fine except for where his fists and boots crashed into me. But you're fussing enough. I'm not admitting to you how badly he hurt me. _

Beverly stood up, taking his arm as he tried to step up, out of the tub. This time he didn't jerk away from her. He let her help him out, fighting down nausea and dizziness. She rubbed him gently with the towel, rubbing the water from his shell and limbs. When he was dry, she stood up, holding out her hand to him. "Come on. Let me help you."

Donatello shook his head. "My pride's taken enough of a beating for one day." He took a step forward on his own, refusing to lean on her again.

"At least let me show you where you can lie down." Beverly's slightly exasperated tone reminded him so much of Leonardo, Don almost smiled.

_Shell, Leo, I wish you were here to put me to bed. I wish this was all just a coffee-fueled nightmare and that I'd wake up in my own bed in the Lair. Too bad I gave up that hope days ago. _He felt himself sway, and darkness threatened the edges of his vision. _Maybe lying down isn't such a bad idea._

Beverly caught him before he could fall again. "That does it. Come on," she said. She led him firmly down a short hall and into a bedroom. It was dim and cool and smelled faintly of wild strawberries.

Don hesitated at the threshold. "This is your room," he said, glancing at her.

"Yep. I have a spare bed, but it's not made up. You can use mine. Don't worry, I changed the sheets just last night," she said, guiding him to the bed.

Donatello tried to stay on his feet, but she pushed him gently back and down so that he was sitting on the edge of the mattress. He put his hands back, ignoring the pain in his shoulders as he fought to stay upright. _No! _

Beverly sighed. "Donatello, relax. You're safe here," she said. "I'm just trying to help you." She touched his shoulders, trying to push him back on to the bed.

"Please… Beverly, don't," he whispered, closing his eyes against the nausea and pain in his arms.

She stepped back. "Ok, if you want to sit up, that's up to you. Just don't blame me when you tip over and fall flat on your shell again."

"Why… why are you doing this?" he asked, gritting his teeth as another wave of weakness made his arms tremble with protest at the load his upper body was putting on them. "Why are you helping me?"

She tilted her head, considering him. "How could I _not_ help? You were hurt and in trouble. I couldn't very well just leave you there."

"I guess I'm just glad you didn't run away screaming." He tried to smile. "That's most people's reaction if they happen to see me."

She smiled, making Don's breath catch in his chest.

_Whoa. Where'd that come from? She's got a great smile, but she's pushy and stubborn… kind of like another red-head I know._

"Well, if I'd met you unexpectedly in the woods, I might have been startled," she said. "And I have to admit I was pretty nervous when I first saw you. But even as strong as you must be when you're healthy, you don't strike me as… dangerous."

Donatello laughed then and wished he hadn't as his ribs and side protested.

Beverly frowned. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's just… I shouldn't have let him take me down like this. I fight guys like Jack all the time. I'm really embarrassed that he got the jump on me like he did."

"You fight all the time? You're… really not from around here, are you?" she asked. "If you'd gotten into fights with any of the locals, I'd know."

"No, I'm not," he admitted. "I was up from the city. I wanted…" he closed his eyes. "I wanted to prove to myself I could handle being alone for a while. You know, on my own."

_And look how it turned out. I'm an idiot._

"Ah, the whole man versus nature thing, huh?" She smiled. "We have a few search-and-rescues every year, going out and bringing back people who've come up from the city, searching for their souls amongst the trees."

Donatello chuckled bitterly. "Well I hope not too many of them run into Jack."

"No, he keeps to himself mostly," she said. She sank into a rocking chair, leaning back. Don relaxed a little.

"Jack's one of those people who lives off the grid. No electric, no running water, no phone."

"Really?" Donatello's eye ridges rose.

_No electricity… no internet…_

"Yep. He lives totally off the land." She rolled her eyes. "Obviously I have more luxuries here. Running water and electricity at least. No phone though. I have to go into town for that."

"You… don't have a telephone?" Don felt himself go a little pale.

_How the shell am I going to contact the guys? My shell-cel's back at the farmhouse. But at least she can't call any government agencies or scientists to come for me._

"Nope." She smiled. "Why, do you need to call someone? Do you have a family, someone who might be looking for you? I can go into town and make a call for you. No offense, but you probably can't walk into the general store and ask to use the phone. This isn't New York City. You'd cause a panic."

Don hesitated for a moment. _I've got to get a message to them, but do I dare reveal my family? Do I dare trust her? I can't risk it. Can't risk exposing them. Besides, I started this journey to prove I can take care of myself. I have to finish it. I can't go running to them the instant something goes wrong._

"No. There's no one," he said, avoiding her gaze. Beverly was watching him as if she didn't quite believe him but she shrugged.

"Ok," she said. "Listen, is there anything in particular you want to eat? Or don't want? I'll bring you up a plate. I think I have some lasagna left over."

Donatello groaned in spite of himself. He _loved_ lasagna, but he shook his head.

"I'm afraid of what sauce might do to my stomach," he said. "I haven't had anything to eat in three days." _And before that he threw me a couple under-ripe apples._

Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh… Oh, Donatello, I'm so sorry. Ok, broth it is. I hope you like chicken, it's all I have. And I'll bring you more water. If you can keep that down, you can try something a little more solid."

"That sounds great, Beverly." He smiled weakly. "Thanks."

"Lie down," she said gently, standing up. "Rest. I'll bring it in here."

Don sighed, but nodded.

"Ok," he said. He lay back. She came to the bed and gently lifted his legs over onto the mattress. He flinched, he couldn't help it, but she didn't comment. She looked at his ankles and sucked in a sharp breath.

"I'll tell you what, I'm going to bring you the food, and while you eat, I'll treat those wounds," she said. "They're pretty clean now but they need to be bandaged."

"I… can do it myself," whispered Don, sinking back onto the soft pillow with a sigh. _Strawberries…_

"Sure you can." Beverly's mouth quirked in an ironic grin. "Right after you run a marathon and climb Mount Everest."

Don didn't reply. His brown eyes were already sliding closed. She went out, closing the door quietly behind her.


	6. Chapter 6 Calling the Cavalry

_Chapter 6 -Calling in the Cavalry-  
~~~_

"Mikey, how long has Don been gone?" Leonardo's scowl was clear over the tiny screen.

Michelangelo swallowed hard. Don was going to be _so_ ticked off that Mike had called Leo, but with everything he'd found, he knew he had no choice. "He was only supposed to be gone for like, four days tops, Leo, but it's been like a week. You know Don. He'd never stay away this long without contacting somebody. And… I found some stuff. Leo, I found his bo. Don's in trouble."

"Did you try to trace his shell-cell yet?" Leonardo's voice was sharp with worry.

"He… didn't take it with him."

"He _what?"_

Mike wanted to close his eyes, to hide from his older brother's anger. He knew he should never have agreed to this. Donatello's instructions had been explicit.

***

_Don't tell Leo what I'm doing and do NOT follow me._ _I want to be on my own for once in my life, Mike. _His brown eyes had burned into Michelangelo's.

_Donny, I dunno… at least take your cel. _

_No, Mikey. I need to be totally on my own. I _need _to do this, bro. Please._

It went against everything they'd been taught, but when Mike saw the determination in Donatello's eyes, he'd understood. Don needed to prove himself. He needed to be able to handle a challenge.

_Ok, bro. If this is really what you want. Just… be careful. _

_Don't worry, Mike. I'll be fine._

***

Michelangelo was shaken out of his thoughts by Leonardo's continuing rant.

"_Donatello_ went out into the woods, without his shell-cell? What did he have with him? A GPS? Laptop? Tracking device?" Leo's face was strained.

"Nothing, Leo. Just some supplies and his bo," said Mikey softly.

"Michelangelo, if this is one of your jokes…"

"Leo, I swear, I'm not joking. Donny's out there by himself. He said he wanted to go alone; he said I couldn't come."

"Why'd you let him go, Mike?"

"He… he said he needed to go, Leo. He was talkin' about something the Indians used to do, he called it a Spirit Journey. He said he needed this, needed a chance to… to be on his own, you know? To see if he could handle it. I thought he'd be safe. I mean, no one's ever around up here this time of year and he's usually so careful…"

"None of us are safe on our own, Mike, you _know_ that."

"I know, Leo. Listen, just come. We've got to find him."

"Stay where you are, Mike. We'll trace the signal and be there as soon as we can, ok? Don't do _anything_, just wait for us."

"I've got to keep searching for him, Leo."

"What if you get captured, too? Mikey, you've got to stay out of sight. You can't risk running into whoever attacked Don!" Leonardo's voice was stern, but Mike shook his head.

"I won't engage anyone, Leo. I'll just scope things out. I'll find him if I can. I'll wait for you to come, ok?"

"Ok, listen. Go ahead and track him. Keep your shell-cell on _at all times._ Raph, Austin and I will head out as soon as we can, ok? We'll have to get April to drive us up since you and Don took the Battle Shell. Just stay out of trouble. We'll be there soon."

"Ok, Leo." Michelangelo's heart rate was already calming. Leo had a plan. Everything would be ok now. Together, they'd get their brother back. They always did.

***

"Raph, is Austin home from work yet?" called Leonardo. He was throwing a few things into a bag. One thing about wearing only his protective gear, it made packing light.

"She should be here any minute, Fearless," replied Raphael. "Whatsa matter, da kid can't live wit'out his wife another minute?" Raph smirked.

"Don's missing," said Leonardo shortly. "He's in trouble."

Raphael's smirk disappeared. "What?"

"He went off into the woods alone and didn't come back." Leonardo stuffed some extra bandages into the bag, his movements rough with anger. "Mikey went out to track him and found his bo."

"Why da _shell_ didn't Mike call sooner?"

"I don't know. Don told him not to… He doesn't have his cell or anything on him, we have no way to track him," said Leo. He snatched up his bag. "Call Ann and Austin, tell them what's going on. Austin can meet us at April's. I'm going to talk to Splinter."

"Ok." Raph was already flipping his phone open, dialing Austin's shell-cell.

"Master?" Leonardo waited at the door until he heard Splinter's reply.

"Come in, my son." Leo went into the room, and found Splinter in his armchair, reading a book. He approached and knelt. "What troubles you, Leonardo?" asked Splinter.

"Don is missing, Sensei," said Leo. "Mikey found his bo in the woods. He's in trouble. Raph and I are going up to the farmhouse to help Mike look for him."

"Will the girls accompany you?"

"Austin will, Sensei. She and Mike have been apart for ten days. She'll want to come."

"And Ann?"

Leonardo hesitated. Raphael and Ann's relationship had been somewhat rocky recently. Since Ann started attending law school again, Raph's jealousy was rising to the surface.

"I don't know, Sensei. Raph's calling her now."

"I will come as well, my son," said Splinter, standing. He laid his book aside. Leonardo got to his feet.

"We can handle it," he said hesitantly.

"I know you are able," said Splinter gently. "But I wish to come along as well. The Lair will be too quiet with my family away. And if Donatello is injured, you may require my assistance."

"You're right," said Leonardo. "We plan to head over to April's in about five minutes. Will you be ready?"

"Yes, Leonardo. I will gather the things I need and meet you at the elevator."

***

"Annie, we're goin' up ta da farmhouse fer a day or two."

"What's going on, Raph? You know I've got an exam this week. This is a really bad time for me to go away…"

"Ya ain't gotta come if ya don't wanna," snapped Raphael.

"I didn't say I don't _want_ to," said Ann, her voice strained as she struggled to hold on to her patience.

Raph scowled. He hated it when she was patient, when she refused to fight with him.

"What's going on?" she demanded. "It's not like you guys to just take off on a whim."

Raphael sighed. "Donny's missing," he said. "Mike just called. Don went out inta da woods. he had some fool idea about goin' off on 'is own…"

"Donatello did _what?_" Ann's tone sharpened, reflecting Raph's own irritation with his brother. "And he's missing? I'll be right home."

"Wait, Ann, we're gonna meet at Ape's," said Raph quickly. "If ya wanna come, ya'll hafta meet us there."

"Of course I'm coming, Raphael." Her voice snapped with irritation. "I'm leaving the school now, I can be at April's in twenty minutes."

"Ok. We'll meet ya there."

"Raph?"

"Yeah, Ann?"

"I love you." Her voice was quiet, steady, telling him more than the words.

_O' course she wants ta come,_ thought Raph with a rush of pride and affection. _Even if I'm a shell-head to her sometimes about da time she spends on school an' stuff, she's part o' da clan._

"I love ya too, Annie."

When Raphael came out of his room with a small duffle, Splinter was already waiting patiently by the elevator door. Raphael's eye-ridges rose. "Yer comin' wit' us, Sensei?"

"Yes, Raphael. Your brother may be injured. I can perhaps be of assistance."

"Dat's a good idea, Splinter," said Raphael with a smile.

_Da girls are good fer 'im,_ he thought. _He's been so much more active since they've been here. He acts ten years younger. _

He threw a spare belt and a few shuriken into the bag, along with a short dagger. Turning to his girlfriend's collection of clothing, he gathered several pairs of her jeans and shorts, and some tee shirts and under garments.

_Shell, women sure do wear a lot of stuff,_ he thought, not for the first time, tucking the clothing into his bag. He grabbed a pair of Ann's sneakers as well and the novel she'd been reading.

_I don't t'ink she needs anyt'ing else. Mebbe some stuff outta da bathroom. _He headed that way, grabbing a bar of soap, Ann's deodorant and the bottles of shampoo and conditioner. _That should cover da basics,_ he thought. A smile crossed his face.

_If I remembered everyt'ing she'll want, it'll be a miracle. But dis is a rescue mission, not a vacation. She says she wants to come. I hope she's ready to rough it._

"You ready, Raph?" called Leonardo.

"Comin'," he answered, stepping out into the hall. Raphael ignored the stairs, preferring to flip over the railing, landing neatly in the main living area. He saw that Leo had packed a bag similar to his own. "Didja get stuff fer Austin?" he asked.

"Yeah, I grabbed her clothes and hiking boots," said Leonardo. "And that han-bo she likes."

"Good. I've got some extra shurikens and a dagger," said Raph. Leo nodded his appreciation. Splinter was already standing near the elevator.

"Are you ready to go, my sons?"

"Yes, Sensei," said Leonardo. "The girls are meeting us at April's. She's already aware of the situation. She's closing up the shop now."

"Let us go," said Splinter.

The three filed into the elevator and headed up. They took to the rooftops quickly. Raph was impressed with how Splinter kept up. Leonardo was flanking him, watching to be sure the old rat could make the leaps and Raph noticed they took a slightly longer route to get to April's, but one that required fewer acrobatics.

Splinter's black eyes were shining by the time they clamored down the fire escape to April's window. He wasn't panting, but Raphael heard the slight change in his breathing that indicated he was controlling it to keep from gasping for air. The window opened to Leonardo's soft tap, and the trio hurried inside. April, Austin and Ann were already there waiting for them.

"Guys, I'm so glad you're here," said April. "What's going on? You just said there was an emergency, Leo."

"Donatello's missing," Leonardo told her.

"Oh no!" Austin cried. She was especially close to Donatello; because of all the brothers he'd been most supportive of her relationship with Mikey despite her past as a Foot soldier.

"How could this happen? Is Michelangelo all right?"

"Mikey's fine, Austin," Leonardo reassured his sister in law. "He's tracking Don now. He found his bo in the woods, about a day's walk from the farmhouse. It looks like someone's taken Don. We'll track Mike's shell-cell and meet him. Hopefully he'll find out where Don's been taken."

Austin nodded. Her face was pale, and her hands were clenched. Ann went over to her and put a gentle arm around her shoulders. "He's gonna be ok, Austin," she said softly.

"He _has_ to be. They both have to be," answered Austin. A determined look came into her eyes. "Are we ready to move out then?"

"April, can you drive us to the farmhouse?" asked Leonardo.

"Of course, Leo. Let me grab a few clothes, and we can go, ok? The van's parked in the alley. You guys can go load in if you want. Can you call Casey and let him know what's going on?"

"I'll do that," said Raph. He moved away from the little group, trying not to notice how Ann didn't immediately rush to him for an embrace.

_It ain't like I didn't jus' see her dis mornin', _he thought, trying to convince himself he wasn't bothered.

"Thank you, April." Leonardo's smile was strained. April touched his arm, giving it a squeeze.

"It's going to be ok, Leo. You'll find him and bring him home safely. I know you will."


	7. Chapter 7 Dreams

**A/N: This is a day late, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KATIE!!!!

* * *

**_Chapter 7 -Dreams-  
~~~_

When Beverly came back with the soup, Don was sleeping. She briefly considered waking him but decided against it.

_He probably hasn't slept in days. _She set the bowl carefully on the stand next to the bed. She started toward the door but a sound from the bed stopped her. Donatello was moaning, twitching in his sleep. Slowly, Beverly approached the bed. She saw him grimace. Sweat coated his brow.

"Donatello?" Cautiously she reached out, brushing the back of his hand with her fingers.

"Noo… Mikey, _run_…" He half-sobbed, twisting to one side as if to ward off a blow. "Not Mikey… leave him alone…"

"Donatello!" Beverly called him more urgently, taking his hand firmly in her own.

He shot up from the bed, gasping, jerking away from her. Though he was unsteady on his feet, his hands came up in a defensive stance. Beverly scrambled backward. She'd seen her own brother take the same stance and she knew a strike could come like lightening. Don stared around, as if he wasn't quite sure where he was. Beverly sat up, getting slowly to her feet.

"Donatello," she called.

The turtle flinched but his eyes focused on her. Traces of anger and fear remained, and a burning, desperate determination.

"He can't... have Mikey." The words slurred.

"Hey… You're safe now. It was just a dream." Beverly spoke softly.

Don blinked. He swayed, his hands coming down as he relaxed. He tipped to one side, nearly falling over. Beverly came slowly forward, holding out her hands. She reached out, but didn't quite touch him.

"Donatello? Are you awake?" she asked.

"What? 'm awake…" He passed a hand over his face as if he could wipe away the confusion. "B… Beverly?" He looked up at her, finally focusing. She saw a wary look replace the sleepy confusion.

"You were having a nightmare," she told him. "Are you ok now?"

"I… I think so," he muttered. He sank down reluctantly, as if his legs could no longer hold him.

"Here. I brought you some broth," said Beverly, gesturing toward the nightstand.

She stayed back. She wasn't about to risk coming within reach of his fists, now that she was certain he'd had at least some sort of combat training. She was beginning to realize that her visitor might not be as harmless as he seemed.

"Thanks." His gratitude seemed genuine. He gave her a shy look from those soft brown eyes. Beverly made her way back to the rocking chair and perched, watching as he sipped the soup. When he'd scooped the last of the broth up, he set the bowl down with a sigh.

"Thank you," he said again. "I was really hungry."

"You're welcome."

She hesitated. She'd intended to dress his wounds, but it was obvious that some of his strength was already returning. She wasn't certain getting within reach of those powerful hands was a good idea.

"Beverly?" His voice sounded strained, as if he were trying not to speak even as the word slipped forth.

"Yes?"

"I think… I'm going to be sick," he whispered.

He was leaning slightly forward, his head down and his eyes closed. Beverly jumped up. She grabbed a small plastic trash-can and hurried over, just in time to hold it for him as the broth came violently back up.

Donatello was sweating, shaking. Hesitantly, she laid her hand on his shoulder, feeling his skin, clammy and cool under her fingers. He swallowed hard several times, obviously trying to fight back the nausea. His face had paled to a mottled grayish-green. He looked sick and weak and thoroughly miserable.

"I… I'm sorry," he whispered, shivering.

Seeing that he was able to speak again, Beverly lowered the can. "Are you done?" she asked.

He nodded, swallowing again. "I think so."

"Ok. I'll go clean this out and bring you a bucket in case it happens again. Donatello, are you hurt? I don't see blood, but are you in any pain?"

He shook his head, not looking up. "'m just… cold." He shivered. "I'm really sorry, Beverly. Please, let me take care of it." He started to struggle to his feet again, but she put a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

"You'll do no such thing," she said softly "Sit still. I'll be right back."

He looked up, as if he would protest again but Beverly forestalled his objection by simply ignoring him. She carried the bucket to the bathroom, emptying it and cleaning it efficiently.

_It's a good thing nursing gave me a strong stomach,_ she thought, rinsing the can with boiling hot water. She fetched a pail from under the kitchen sink, and poured a cup of cold water, carrying them back to the bedroom. Don was still perched on the side of the bed, his hands on the edge of the mattress as if he could barely hold himself up.

"Donatello?"

He looked up, and his face, if it were possible, went paler, his eyes flicking between the glass of water and the bucket in her hands. He shrank back as she approached, the muscles in his legs twitching slightly, as if he was fighting the urge to run.

"What's wrong?" Beverly stopped, confused and concerned.

"N… nothing," he whispered. He ducked his head, closing his eyes, as if in pain.

She walked over slowly, watching for any sign that he'd lash out. His trembling increased slightly as she came closer, but he didn't move. She set the bucket on the floor and the water on the nightstand. He flinched at the faint _clink_.

"What is it?" she asked softly. "What's wrong?"

"I… It's nothing. Really." He drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. He met her gaze with a shaky smile.

"Donatello. What did Jack do to you?" Beverly looked into his eyes, determined. "It's ok, you can tell me. He's my _brother_. I lived with him for thirteen years. I know what he's like."

"It… was just… water," said Don, the words coming forth slowly, painfully, almost against his will. "He threw water on me. Cold… freezing. I… couldn't breathe." He drew in a deep breath. "'m ok. It was just water," he finished faintly.

"Water torture." Beverly sat down carefully beside the trembling turtle. She put her arm tentatively around him. He sucked in a sharp breath, but didn't pull away. "Donatello, have you heard of water boarding?"

"…Yes."

"It's the same idea. The way you were tied… The idea is to make the prisoner feel as if they're drowning. It's an old technique, it's been in use for centuries."

Donatello shuddered. "I just felt so… helpless," he said softly. "I… I'm not used to… not being able to fight back. Trapped…"

"It really was awful, wasn't it?" she said sympathetically.

The turtle shook his head. "You don't understand," he said. "I… I'm trained in martial arts. Beverly, not being able to defend myself, being so weak..." The shame in his voice was heart-breaking. "I don't know how I can go home again," he half-whispered.

Beverly squeezed his shoulders. "Donatello. Listen to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Jack's cunning and strong. He caught you unaware. In a fair fight, I have no doubt you could beat him. You certainly have the muscle. Anyone can be caught by surprise."

Donatello shook his head, refusing to accept her comfort.

Beverly sighed with exasperation. "Listen, why don't you lie back down and let me take care of your ankle. You're a mess."

He let out a startled, half-choked laugh. "I am, aren't I? But I don't want to be any trouble. I can do it myself, if you can lend me some first-aid supplies."

"Nonsense. You can just about sit up. I'm not having you try to bend over and end up falling off the bed," she told him. "Now lie down and let me help you."

"I'm _sick_ of being taken care of," grumbled Donatello. He caught her surprised glance and blushed.

"Sorry," he said contritely. "I was sick a while back. _Really_ sick. It was septic pneumonia. I was bedridden for over a month. I've only been able to return to my normal activities recently. I _hate_ feeling helpless. I hate being a burden."

"You're not a burden to me," Beverly told him gently. "And I'm sure your family, or whoever was taking care of you, feels the same way." He flicked a glance toward her, the wary look coming back. She gave him her most reassuring smile.

"I'm sorry," he said, a bit stiffly. "I didn't mean to dump all that on you."

"Not at all." She shook her head. "You've been through a lot. And you can trust me. Donatello, I'm not going to… turn you over to the army or anything. I give you my word. You're safe here."

At the mention of turning him over, he'd tensed. Brown eyes turned toward her.

"Beverly," he swallowed hard. "Please understand. You've been very kind and I appreciate everything you've done, I really do, but I have to ask one more thing of you. Please. You can't ever tell anyone else about me. There are… people… who would love to get a hold of someone like me. Scientists…" He trailed off, his expression bleak.

"Donatello," said Beverly, putting her hand on his arm. She was surprised at the fierce protectiveness he brought out in her, but there was something about those soft brown eyes… "I swear, I won't _ever_ tell anyone about you. I'll do whatever I can to protect you, from Jack, and from anyone else who might mean you harm."

He relaxed marginally and his face softened.

"Thanks," he said softly. "If there's ever anything I can do to help you, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Well, there's one thing," said Beverly with a grin.

"What?" Donatello gave her a confused look.

"You can let me take care of that ankle."

"If you insist," he said with a smile.

"I do." She fetched the first aid kit and began efficiently binding up his ankles. She cleaned the dog bite, palpitating his ankle gently. He hissed in pain as she bent his foot.

"Does that hurt?" She looked up, her eyebrows rising.

"Ahh… Yeah, a little. I don't think it's broken though. It feels more like bruising and muscle damage," he said.

Bev's eyebrows arched as she glanced up at him. "You have medical knowledge?"

"A little I'm kind of like a medic," he said. He grimaced as she began cleaning the wound. "I can treat most emergencies, broken bones, stitches, things like that."

"Hmm. Not easy to set your own bones," she said. She applied antibacterial salve liberally to a piece of gauze and pressed it over the wound. She glanced up. He was avoiding her eyes again.

She sighed, wrapping the wound. "Who's Mikey?" she asked casually.

His reaction was instant. He jerked his leg out of her hands, leaping to his feet. He backed toward the door, watching her with wide, wild eyes.

"How… how do you know?"

"Hey! Hey, take it easy." Beverly stood up, holding up her hands. "Relax. Donatello, relax. It's ok, really. You were calling his name before. When you were dreaming."

"I… I was… dreaming… Dreaming that Jack got…" Donatello shook his head. He swayed, near collapse as the adrenaline drained away.

"He… He's my brother," he said softly.

Beverly walked over and caught Donatello's arm. He flinched, jerking away from her, but she held on.

"Come on. Sit. It's ok. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Slowly, reluctantly, Donatello let her lead him back to the bed. She knelt, applying fresh bandages to his leg. He twitched under her fingers. She glanced up and saw a wary, fearful look in his eyes.

"You're afraid for him?" she spoke softly. "Donatello, I couldn't hurt your brother, even if I wanted to. I don't know anything about him. I don't know where he is or how to find him. I really don't know anything about _you._"

"Jack could hurt him, if Mike comes looking for me…" His eyes were bleak. "Beverly, I may have led him right into a trap."


	8. Chapter 8 Weak Link

**A/N: Poor Donny. He really is being a bone-head. And yes, he is not well... Details matter. Chills... weakness... If he weren't so worried about Beverly turning him over to Jack, he might pay better attention to his own symptoms.  
**

** Sorry these couple chaps have been a bit slow on action... things will heat up soon enough. While Don's lounging around, his bro's are on the move.**

I'm leaving town this morning, will be gone until tomorrow night quite late, so today you get a bonus- an extra chapter! Enjoy. :)

**

* * *

**_Chapter 8 -Weak Link-  
~~~_

Donatello watched as the woman tucked the end of the bandage in expertly. He wasn't reassured by her insistence that she wouldn't do anything to cause him or Mike harm. As kind as Beverly had been, Jack was her brother.

_How could I have let Mike's name slip to her like that? Now she knows I have at least one brother. I've got to get away from here before her crazy brother comes looking for me, before she lets it slip to him I'm not the only mutated turtle on earth. _

Beverly finished wrapping his wounded leg. She didn't look up at him, just picked up her supplies, tucking them neatly into the first-aid kit. Don watched, his eye-ridges rising.

_She's nearly as fussy about her supplies as I am,_ he thought. He moved his leg experimentally. _She does nice work._ He felt a smile creeping across his face in spite of his anxiety. _Maybe I can trust her, maybe not. I'll have to be more careful. I can't risk Jack getting hold of any of the others. _

"Donatello, don't worry," she said, looking up at him. "I'm sure your brother will be ok. Do you think he'll come looking for you? Do you have any way to contact him, to warn him about Jack?"

Don shook his head. Without his shell-cell, he couldn't call Mikey himself, and he was still wary.

_If I let her make the call, she'll tell Mikey where I am. He'll come for me. I can't let that happen. I can't lead him into a trap._

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for your brother, ok? I have to go back and see Jack again sometime soon anyway," said Beverly.

Donatello stared. His heart felt as though it had dropped to the bottom of his stomach.

_Oh no… she wants to go visit him? What for? What if he finds out where I am? I'm still to weak to get far on my own. Oh shell…I can't go back to that barn, I just can't!_ He felt himself beginning to tremble and tried desperately to stop.

"I have to," she said gently, watching him. Donatello avoided her gaze. "He's got to pay his property tax bill or the state is going to take the land away. That cabin is our childhood home. If Jack gets evicted, it might be enough to send him over the edge," she said, half to herself.

"I'd say he's already flown over the cuckoo's nest," remarked Donatello. He regretted the comment almost instantly.

Hurt flickered across Beverly's face. "He's still my _brother_," she said, getting to her feet. She started to say something more, but shook her head. "Let me see your arm."

"What?" Don glanced at her, confused and wary.

"Your arm. Let me see those cuts. They should be cleaned at least. Do any of them need stitches?" she asked.

He shuddered. "They're fine."

"Donatello," she said firmly. "Why won't you let me help you?"

"They're not as bad as they look," he said. "I'm fine, Beverly, honestly."

_Actually I just can't bear to have you touch them. Or anyone. Ever. I just don't want to think about them anymore, don't want to think about _Jack_ anymore._

"Donatello. You've got to let me help you. You can't afford an infection," she scolded. "You told me yourself you're recovering from a very serious illness. If one of those cuts were to get infected, it could send your body spiraling into shock."

Don was shaking. He shook his head. "Beverly, I promise you, I'm fine."

"When was your last tetanus booster?" she asked pointedly.

"About a month ago, actually," he told her. Don smiled at her shocked look. "We have a friend who's able to… acquire certain medicines and things for us," he explained. He saw her surprised look and sighed. "I told you, we're fighters."

"I don't understand. _Who_ do you fight? What exactly _are_ you, Donatello?" asked Beverly, rocking back on her heels and staring intensely into his face.

_I suppose I do owe you some kind of explanation. You did save my life after all._

"My… family and I… we're sort of vigilantes," explained Donatello carefully. "We've trained as ninjas our whole life. We keep to ourselves, away from humans, but we go out and patrol the city most nights. If we see a crime happening, we stop it. Sometimes we break up gang activity."

"You're a… ninja? Like… martial arts? Jackie Chan movies?"

Donatello laughed. "Sort of," he said softly. "Jackie Chan mostly practices judo and karate. There are different styles of martial arts."

"I do know that much," said Beverly. "Sorry. Jackie Chan was just the first thing that popped into my head. Comparing you to him is probably insulting. I didn't mean it to be."

"It's ok. I understand." Don almost snorted.

_Jackie Chan _indeed_. But at least she's trying to understand._

"We are the good guys. In that sense, we're kind of like he is in the movies. We live by a code of honor."

"That's amazing," said Beverly. She was watching him now with interest.

Don blushed. "What?"

"It's just… When I first saw you, I knew you were different from anyone I've ever met. Obviously because of your physical differences," she gestured, not quite touching his shell. "But it's more than that. You're… a very surprising person."

Donatello met her eyes and a thrill ran down his spine. _Whoa. Where did that come from? I've only felt like that when April smiles at me,_ he thought, confused.

"Thanks, I guess," he managed.

Beverly laughed and Don felt a slow smile spread across his face.

"Ok, now let me look at your arms," she said, catching his hand in her own.

Don tensed. "Really, they're fine," he said, trying to pull away.

Bev held on. "Donatello, come on. You know as well as I do that those wounds have to be cleaned." She spoke gently. "Why won't you let me help you?"

_I'm scared. Scared that if you see the wounds, you'll want to know how they happened. I don't want to tell you, don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about what he did. _

"I'm fine. Really."

"No, you're _not_ fine. I _saw_ you in that barn, Donatello. I saw how hurt you were. It's _ok_. I know you don't trust me. I'd understand if you never trusted _any_ human again after what Jack did to you."

"It's not ok, Beverly!" Don snapped. He jerked his hand out of her grasp. She was on her feet in an instant, backing away. Don felt something twist in his chest.

_She's afraid of me, afraid of the _mutant.

Anger boiled up in him. "It's not ok for me to be weak, not ever," he told her bitterly. "I can't _afford_ to be weak! I can't afford to let somebody like Jack get the jump on me like that! I've put my whole family in danger _again_ just because I had to try and prove I'm as strong as my brothers."

"Donatello…"

Don ignored her attempt to interrupt. He got up and paced away from the bed. Pain shot through his leg, but he was unable to sit still for another moment. "It's not ok for me to ever be weak, Beverly, because there will always be someone like Jack out there, who wants to hurt me, who wants to hurt _us._ We're a team. We can't afford weakness. I'm the weak link. You should have left me there in the barn. They're better off without me." Tears welled in Donatello's eyes. He didn't realize he was swaying until the woman caught his arm, tilting him back upright on his feet.

"Sit," she commanded, leading him firmly back to the bed.

Don sank down. He was shivering again, feeling cold in the warm room.

_I'm such a shell-head,_ he thought.

Beverly sat down beside him, stroking his bicep gently. She didn't say anything for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft.

"Donatello, I've known you for less than a day, but I know a few things about you," she said slowly. "I know you're fiercely loyal to your family. I know you'd do anything to protect them."

Don shook his head, but she laid her palm against his arm, forestalling his denial.

"You got up off this bed when you could hardly walk and nearly bolted out of the room when I mentioned your brother's name," she said gently. "You had no thought for your physical health, only for his safety. Don, you're a _good_ brother. You obviously care about them."

_Wait a minute, 'them'? She knows there are more of us? Oh no. I said "brothers" just now. Oh shell, I'm an idiot… _Don felt the blood leaving his face. He squirmed away from Beverly's hand.

She shook her head, smiling. "Even now you're worrying that you've said too much. Donatello, don't. It's ok. _Really_." She looked up, meeting his gaze steadily. "I know you don't trust me, and I understand why. You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with."

_I've already told you more than I should have_.

"Donatello, it's obvious to me that you're a much stronger person than you're giving yourself credit for being," said Beverly. "You survived as my brother's prisoner longer than most people could. And now that you're free, you're more focused on keeping your family safe than you are on your own health and safety. In my book that adds up to courage and a lot of it. Your family is _lucky_ to have you, Donatello. Don't you dare _ever_ think you're a weak link. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met."

"I'm not." He whispered, pain spiking in his chest. Don closed his eyes, hiding from her. His emotions warred in his chest.

_Why does she make me feel like this? Why do I feel as if she can see into my soul? Why do I feel so vulnerable? _

"Donatello." Her voice was soft, and the fingers that brushed his wrist softer yet.

Don opened his eyes, startled to see her kneeling next to the bed.

"Why do you put yourself down like that?" she asked softly.

He looked away, confused and embarrassed. "I don't… I mean, I'm not. I'm just being honest, Beverly. I have to train harder, I have to challenge myself, get stronger. I can't afford to be weak. My _family_ can't afford for me to be weak."

"You're not weak," she said, meeting his gaze steadily. "You're _not._"

"You don't even know me," he said softly. He shook his head. "Beverly, you've been great, you really have, but I have to get out of here. I have to get back to my family."

_I have to escape before Jack shows up again, before I reveal anything else, before this spirals any further out of control._

"I understand, Donatello but how are you going to do that? You're not strong enough to travel. If there's someplace you can meet them or need to go, I can drive you…"

_A ride home… We could be back at the farmhouse in just a few hours…_

He shook his head. "No." He let out a frustrated sigh. "No, I'll have to go on my own."

"Whatever you think is best," said Beverly.

Don looked at her. Her expression was resigned.

"I'm sorry," he said, contrite. She'd helped him, been kind. He knew his mistrust was cruel, but he couldn't risk his brothers, his sister-in-law, his family. There was just too much at stake.

"It's ok, Donatello," she said gently. She stood up. "I understand. I really do. Jack's not much of a brother, but I'd fight to protect him." She smiled sadly. "I'll let you get some rest, ok?"

"Thanks, Beverly," said Don.

He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. He heard the door close softly behind her and waited until her footsteps disappeared down the hallway before getting up. No matter how kind and caring she'd been, he had to get out of there.


	9. Chapter 9 Treed

**A/N: NOW who's being a bone-head? *sigh* Michelangelo... Ya know I love you, but sometimes you are an idiot.  


* * *

**_Chapter 9 -Treed-  
~~~_

"Leo, you're going to get us all killed if you don't slow down!" Ann laid her hand on his arm, giving him a squeeze. "I know you're worried about Don, but driving off the road isn't going to help him."

"Don't distract him, Ann," growled Raph.

"Ann is right, my sons," said Splinter calmly. "Leonardo, do not allow your concern for your brother to cloud your judgment."

"Sorry, Sensei," said Leo, easing off the gas just a little.

He'd resented the time it took to stop at the farmhouse and trade April's van for the Battle-Shell. The argument between himself, Raph and the girls about their tagging along when they went after Michelangelo had taken even more precious time. It was bad enough that they'd delayed long enough to drop Bailey, Ann's dog, off at Casey's back in the city. He didn't intend to waste another moment getting to his brother.

Leo's dark eyes were glued to the road. "We're almost to where Michelangelo is. Raph, can you call him? Tell him to meet us on the road. We'll have to walk back in to where he last tracked Don to and go on from there."

"You got it, Leo." Raphael flipped open his shell-cell.

Ann sat back in the seat, tightening her lap-belt grimly as Leonardo took another turn without slowing down. Even April was beginning to look a bit queasy. Austin just gripped the edges of her seat and looked out the window. The only sign of her worry was the small frown that creased her brow.

"I don't like Mikey being out there alone," she said, so softly only Splinter heard. He turned to glance at his daughter-in-law with a knowing smile.

"Michelangelo is very able," he said gently. "He will come to no harm."

"I know, Sensei," she answered, a slight flush creeping up her cheeks. "I know he can take care of himself, but someone took Donny down. We don't know what we're dealing with. If there's someone out there who can take on one of the guys, this might be more dangerous than we think."

"Donatello was alone," said Splinter. "And weakened by his recent illness. He was not looking for trouble. Michelangelo is aware of the danger. He will be more cautious."

Austin didn't answer but her hand slowly reached out. Splinter took her fingers in his paw and gave them a gentle squeeze. Austin managed a shaky smile.

***

Michelangelo moved silently over the leaf litter, every sense on high alert.

_Shell, Leo, you'd better get here fast. This just keeps getting creepier and creepier, like one o' those horror movies where somebody disappears, then somebody else goes lookin' for 'em, and the second somebody disappears, then everybody goes lookin', an' then they find the monster and he eats all their brains. _

Mikey shook himself. _They're on their way. They'll be here any minute. I gotta find out as much as I can about where Donny is. Leo's gonna hang my shell out to dry. Why'd I let Don talk me into letting him go alone, anyway?_

He made his way across the clearing, concealing himself in the late evening shadows the trees cast. He smelled wood smoke and heard the faint whicker of a horse.

_I wonder if this is where that guy is I saw in the woods. I wonder if he knows where Don is?_

Slowly, cautiously, he made his way to the barn. Mike was painfully aware of the flickering light coming from the cabin window. The man was inside, he was sure of it. He didn't dare go through the barn doors. Instead, he felt his way around the walls.

_I bet there's another way in,_ he thought. Finding what he was looking for, he smiled. _Bingo._ He slipped the loose board aside, not noticing the fine strands of reddish-blond hair clinging to the splinters, and slipped inside. In a moment, his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Mikey froze as he heard something move from across the barn, a soft stamping hoof-beat. The horse whickered again.

"Hey there, big guy," whispered Mike, easing across the barn. The horse shook its head, watching him approach, but didn't shy away when he reached tentatively to stroke its nose. "You seem awfully calm around giant turtles, dude," said Mike. "Like… you might've seen one of us before."

Michelangelo began searching the barn for any sign his brother might've been there. He moved slowly into the stall next to the horse's. He noticed that the floor was cool and damp, as if it'd been washed recently. He knelt to touch the concrete, searching for any sign of his brother's presence. Seeing nothing significant, he reached out to grasp the stall slats and pull himself up. That's when he noticed the grooves worn into the slat. A closer look revealed threads of what appeared to be rope caught in the furrow.

Before he could contemplate what his discovery might mean, a vibration at his hip made him jump nearly out of his shell.

"Geez, Leo, give a guy a heart attack why dontcha," he muttered, flipping open his shell-cel.

"Mike, we're almost there. Meet us at da road." Raphael's gruff voice echoed in the quiet barn.

"Keep it down, Raph," hissed Michelangelo, slapping his fingers over the speaker. "I don't know where the road is. I came in through the woods."

"Where are you, Mikey?" Raph's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Ya ain't doin' not'in stupid, are ya?"

"I'm in a barn. I'm looking for clues," whispered Mike. "Why don't you guys track me? I'll meet you in the woods."

"Mike, get outta there," Raphael snapped.

"In a minute, Raphy. Just get here. Somethin's weird about this place."

"We'll be there soon. Get outta there, Mikey."

"Ok." Mike snapped his shell-cel closed.

Michelangelo slipped out of the stall, staring around the barn. Hearing footsteps outside, he froze for an instant before disappearing up the ladder into the hayloft.

Mikey watched as the barn door opened slowly. A figured moved in the shadows, not bothering with a light. Mike's eyes narrowed as the man slipped across the barn to the horse's stall. He stopped for a moment, turning slowly and scanning the space. The turtle watched, frowning.

_That's the guy I saw before. No way does he know I'm here,_ he thought, shrinking back into the shadows.

The man moved into the stall and began brushing the horse, calming it with soothing tones and firm strokes of the brush. He picked its feet, filled the hay net and fetched it a scoop of grain from a barrel. Finally he made his way out of the barn, closing the door softly behind him.

_Weird._

Mikey leapt lightly to the floor. He poked his head over the horse's stall one more time. The horse munched calmly at its sweet feed, barely sparing him a glance. Mike shook his head. Something definitely wasn't right, but there wasn't anything else to find here. He slipped back outside, melting into the shadows. Michelangelo started toward the trees but hesitated.

_That guy went into the house. I wonder what he's doin' in there? Maybe I should wait for the guys. But it's just one guy. I can handle this. What if he's got Donny in there? I've got to check it out._

Slowly, carefully, he moved across the yard. Michelangelo was nearly to the porch when he heard a low growl. He froze, staring into the darker black under the porch. Something moved, white teeth glistening. The growl was louder now, chilling Mikey's blood. He yanked his nunchucks from his belt, backing away.

"Nice… whatever you are," he whispered. "Easy now. I don't taste good. See, 'm green. Yuck. You don't wanna eat anything that's turned green, dude, trust me. I ate a slice of green pizza once, and I was sick for a week…" He moved carefully toward the darker shadows of the trees, painfully aware of too much open space around him.

The dog launched itself from under the porch like a ball ejected from a cannon. Michelangelo barely had time to "Eeeep!" before it was upon him.

His nun-chuck whistled, catching the frothing animal in the side of the head. The enormous dog yelped, rolling aside. It gained its feet and charged again. By the time the dog oriented on the fleeing turtle, Michelangelo was more than half way across the yard, aiming for a tree with low branches. He jumped, an impossible leap for a man but just within the bounds of a mutated ninja used to jumping roofs across alleys.

Mikey almost made it. He was stretching, his fingertips just brushing the branch, when he felt a tearing pain in the back of his calf. He grasped the rough wood, swinging himself up, feeling the dog's teeth tear into his leg even as he yanked loose from its grasp.

He swung up into the tree, ignoring the burning, tearing sensation in his leg, and gained a rather shaky foothold. The young ninja pulled himself further up the tree, feeling hot liquid run down the back of his leg. Without looking down at the snarling animal, he swung, arcing his body to gain the momentum he needed to throw his body into the next tree. Landing lightly on a branch, he sprang again, wobbling a bit as he flew from branch to branch, barely pausing as he disappeared into the night.

***

Jack Koban heard Rufus barking outside. He slid his chair back from the table, snatching up his shotgun as he headed out the door. Rufus might've treed a 'coon, or the turtle-creature might've come back. Jack smiled to himself. He'd figured once the critter got loose, it'd make a bee-line for the army base. Or it would disappear into the woods. It'd done a decent job of covering whatever tracks it'd left. Even Rufus hadn't found a scent trail to follow.

By the way Rufus was barking now, though, he'd found something interesting. Jack hurried outside, scanning the darkness. Rufus was beyond the barn, barking up a tree. Jack jogged over, calling the dog off with a sharp whistle.

"What've ya got, boy?" he asked, patting the still-growling dog on the head. He sniffed the air, catching the faint scent of fresh blood before he reached the tree Rufus was circling. Jack's eyes narrowed.

"What've you got there, Boy? Looks like ya got a piece of it, anyway." He came closer, cautious. Jack knew there was nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal. No rustle of leaves or brush of fur or skin against bark gave away the presence of a treed creature. The forest was as quiet as it ever was, only the lonesome hoot of a sleepy owl and the soft twittering of song birds as they settled in for the night broke the silence.

Jack put his hand on the bark, feeling a bit of familiar sticky slick wetness. He sniffed his fingers, confirming what he already knew. Blood. Not a lot, but enough to tell him whatever Rufus had wounded was large enough to lose a fair amount and keep on going.

The man chuckled. The turtle wasn't far off, after all. He'd begun to worry that his sister might've found the creature, that it could have forced her to drive it someplace. It was certainly cunning enough. He'd even considered riding the horse over there, to check up on her. He was sure now that the turtle was too weak to have tangled with his sister. Somehow it had managed to get free of the ropes he'd used to bind it, but he was certain it hadn't been strong enough to overpower Beverly. She was strong, that one. Too strong for her own good sometimes.

Jack frowned. He was fairly certain Beverly hadn't hung around. She'd left the supplies on the porch and gone. No way had she seen the turtle he'd left in the barn. He'd even muzzled the creature, so it couldn't make any noise when she came.

The turtle had gotten loose, but now Jack was certain it was still hanging around the place. Tomorrow, in the daylight, he'd take Rufus and track it. He hadn't done any serious hunting in a long while. It was time he went out after dangerous game.


	10. Chapter 10 Reflections, Memories

**A/N: Well, I'm back. I apologize for the lateness of this posting.  
**

**Happy writing, all!  


* * *

**_Chapter 10 -Reflections, Memories and Suspicions-  
~~~_

Beverly shook her head, turning on the radio and running hot water into the sink to wash the few dishes.

_It's kind of nice, having someone here to talk to,_ she thought. _I've been alone for so long, I'd almost forgotten what it's like to fix enough food for two people. I wonder what Don likes to read. He'll be bedridden for a while, until his injuries heal and he's able to keep down solid food._

_All I have around are medical books and those old volumes of essays and poetry. I doubt a warrior would be partial to poetry. He _is_ a warrior. I could see it in his eyes, the determination, in spite of how hurt he is, how terrified he must be. He really is a fighter, yet he's so different from what I'd expect a fighter to be. He seems… sweet. Kind of quiet and polite, even in such awful circumstances. I wonder what his family has done to make him feel as if he's the weak one. What must the others be like? Are they turtles, too? Fighters, warriors? He said they're a 'team'. But who trained them to fight?_

Beverly squeezed a healthy dollop of soap into the water. She cleaned the pans and dishes carefully, nearly scalding her fingers in the rinse water. Satisfied, she set the dishes in the drying rack and set about methodically cleaning the kitchen, a task which occupied her hands when she had serious thinking to do.

_What next? I've got to get over to Jack's to drop off the letter from the State. _She sighed. _I suppose I could just pay the bill myself, but it's a lot of money. Besides, Jack has that trust from Grandfather to pay for the upkeep on the land. All I have to do is get him to sign the check. I just hope he doesn't realize I'm the one who let Donatello go. _A slight shiver shook her.

_Well, I did my best to conceal the evidence. Besides, Jack hasn't shown up here looking for him. Never assume safety, isn't that what he always said? But if I live looking over my shoulder every instant, I'll end up as paranoid as Jack._

_I just hope I'm right about Donatello, that he's a 'good guy'. I can't believe I said that about Jackie Chan. I'm such an idiot. Hmm, I wonder what he meant by living by a code of honor. He certainly seems old-fashioned in some ways. Maybe it's the way he talks. He seems… educated. And yet, he can't have attended university. I wonder who taught him? There are so many mysteries here. I hope I'm doing the right thing by helping him. But how could I _not_ help him? Those eyes… _

Beverly shook herself and scrubbed more vigorously than was absolutely necessary at a stubborn spot on the refrigerator door.

Soon she'd cleaned the kitchen until it shone. She clicked off the radio, and went out to the living room, flipping her small television set on, turning the volume low so as not to disturb her visitor.

"_Chance of thunderstorms, eighty-percent,_" announced the weatherman. Beverly sighed. _Perfect,_ she thought. _I hope Donatello's not afraid of thunder. These storms always seem wilder on this side of the mountain. I'd better be sure we have matches and candles._

The main stories centered on national news, then moved to the happenings in the big city a few hours away. The top news story of the night was about another mysterious event in New York. The police were reported as "baffled" by last week's attack on a local gang, the Purple Dragons. Responding to a break-in alarm, the authorities had found the gang members beaten and bruised, but alive, left tied up in the alley, stacked like cord-wood. Beverly chuckled at the thought.

_Come to think of it, I've heard stories like this before, about a group of vigilantes roaming the city streets. I never took it seriously before; the big city's so far away from our little lives out here in the sticks. Hmm. Maybe I should pay more attention to the city news from now on._

The news droned on, moving to local affairs, covering the usual myriad of car accidents, births, deaths and the county fair. There wasn't much to report in a small town. One last report caught Beverly's attention, sending chills racing down her spine.

"_A teenager from New York has disappeared in the County forest. Benjamin Willis was last seen wearing a checked shirt, jeans and sneakers. He told friends he was going hiking and never returned. His car was found along County Route Thirty-eight, apparently abandoned. A small amount of blood was found about a mile from the car, but there was no other sign of a struggle._

_Anyone with information on the whereabouts of Benjamin Willis is asked to call 1-800-555-1212… A reward is being offered for any information leading to his safe return."_

She clicked off the set as a bad situation comedy came on. Beverly rubbed her arms, feeling cold in the warm house.

_Donatello's a warrior. Fighting…What if he met this kid in the woods…_

She shook her head. _He's not a killer. Not violent… not bloodthirsty. Not like Jack. But if he thought his family was in danger…_ Another shiver shook her.

She got up, fetching a book of poetry from her shelf.

_Tyger, Tyger, burning bright…_ She closed the book with a sigh. Donatello was no tiger, with slashing claws and tearing teeth but neither was he a housecat to be tamed.

_He's such a mystery,_ she mused. _There's something about him… something almost gentle, in his eyes. He's so shy. The way he blushed when I was helping him bathe… as if he were embarrassed. _She smiled to herself. _His skin is so different from what I expected. It's smoother than it looks. _

She found red creeping up her own cheeks and shook her head, laughing at herself.

_What's wrong with me? I feel so… silly. It's been a long day. I guess it's just the stress, finally catching up with me. Perhaps I'll wake up to find this is all just a very strange dream._

She made her way slowly up the stairs, drawn as if against her will back to her bedroom. _If I can look at him just once more, maybe I'll wake up from this dream. Or I'll discover it's real after all. _

She slipped into the bedroom, her footsteps nearly silent on the carpet. She came in a few feet, and hesitated, watching him. Donatello lay on his back, his head cradled on the pillow. His eyes were closed, and his expression relaxed. His plastron rose and fell steadily.

_He looks so… peaceful. So calm. _Beverly hugged her arms across her chest. _He's so different when he's asleep. He looks so harmless. Not helpless, exactly, but if I'd seen him like this at first, I'd never have thought he's a fighter. He's different, sure, but not in a bad way. In an odd sort of way, he's… handsome._

She stood for a long moment, just watching him. _This has been such a strange day,_ she thought. _I never would've guessed taking a few supplies to Jack would turn out this way. _She shivered slightly.

_I hope I'm doing the right thing,_ she thought. _I hope he really is as sweet and gentle as he seems. He might be a warrior but he's civilized. I hope he'll tell me more about this 'code of honor'. I'd feel better if I could understand how someone with such gentle eyes can be a fighter. It just doesn't seem to make sense._

Finally Beverly turned away. She went out as quietly as she'd come, closing the door softly behind her.

_At least he's sleeping. He needs all the rest he can get. Jack really put him through the wringer. _

_I wonder if Donatello's brothers will come looking for him. He seemed worried about Jack hurting them. If they're as strong as Donatello, perhaps I should be worried about _Jack_ getting hurt. Maybe I'd better take a ride out there in the morning, to be sure he's ok. Donatello should be able to stay on his own for a few hours. He certainly seems anxious to get back on his feet. He's like Jack that way, doesn't want to be taken care of. _

Beverly moved down the hall to the guest bedroom. She fetched a clean sheet from the closet and made up the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, but her racing thoughts wouldn't allow her to relax. With a sigh, she fetched a large photo album from the shelf. She tucked it under her arm and went back downstairs. She sat at the kitchen table, thumbing through the pictures.

_There's Jack when he was only a boy,_ she thought, a sad smile crossing her face. She traced the figure in the photo with her finger. _Even then he never smiled. _The young boy stared into the camera, solemn as he held his first kill, a rabbit, up for the picture.

_I suppose hunting was in his blood even then. Grandfather took him out after rabbits when he was just ten. _Beverly frowned. _I remember how little Bobby Jenkins teased Jack over the size of his first rabbit. It wasn't long after that when Bobby drowned in the pond. He wasn't a very nice kid, but what an awful tragedy for his parents._

She flipped the page, coming to later photos. Her mother's face, solemn as her son's, looked out at her from the pages. Beverly shook her head.

_Oh, Mom. You never did get over Dad leaving us, did you? And then you started drinking… You were lost to us long before you passed away. Alcohol stole you not once, but twice. First you left us emotionally, then it finally took you when your liver couldn't take any more. _

Beverly thought of the young woman who'd sung lullabies to her, cradling her in the rocking chair next to the fire. _It seems like there were two of you, Mom. The Mommy who loved to laugh and sing and sewed those frilly little aprons for my dolls, and later after Dad left, the Mom who drank too much whiskey and looked at us with such sad, dead eyes. Oh, Mom… I wish things could've been different. I miss you._

A tear splashed on the protective plastic, and Beverly wiped it away with her fingertips before turning the page. Later photos were fewer. A picture of her date for the Spring Fling dance. A photo of Jack in his uniform, ready to leave for Basic Training. Beverly stared at that one for a long time.

_I wasn't even there when you left. I'd already moved in to Janie's. I guess by then our family had already fallen apart. You just weren't ready to admit that, were you, Jack? You just couldn't let us go. You had to leave, to pretend it was _you_ who left _us _behind. The truth was, Dad had left, Mom was already gone, and me, too. I guess we all left you, Jack, before you left us. I'm sorry. Sorry you couldn't adjust to life after Dad left, sorry Grandfather put so much pressure on you to grow up and take care of us. Sorry Mom started drinking. Sorry I couldn't stand up to Grandfather. Sorry I couldn't stand up to _you.

_I failed you, Jack. _

Beverly closed the album. She stood up, taking a deep breath to settle her emotions and went to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea.


	11. Chapter 11 Escape

**A/N: Hope you've got the shell-head award polished... 'cause Don's about to earn it. *sigh*  


* * *

**_Chapter 11 -Escape-  
~~~_

Donatello heard Beverly coming up the stairs and he lay down, pretending to sleep. He heard the door latch click open. The light shining through his eyelids brightened slightly. He heard fabric rustle near the door, and knew she'd entered the room. Her soft footsteps padded a few feet toward him and stopped. He was painfully aware of her every movement, the sound of her breathing, even her warm scent, but he kept his eyes closed and his breathing slow, relaxed. He waited.

After a few minutes, he heard Beverly move again. The door hinges creaked softly before the light dimmed once again and the latch clicked closed. Donatello waited for a long moment, holding his breath, straining to catch any movement or sound, but Beverly's footsteps faded down the hall and back downstairs.

_She was just checking on me. Everything's fine,_ he told himself, trying to ignore his racing heart. _She's a nice girl. Not many people would've done all she has to help one of us. Not many people are as smart and perceptive as she seems… I wish I could stick around, get to know her better, but it's not safe. I've got to get out of here._

Carefully, silently, he slid a drawer open on the little nightstand next to the bed. He felt around until he found what he needed- a pen and a scrap of paper. He wrote quickly, leaving the note beside the bed.

Don got to his feet and moved toward the door, listening to the muffled sounds as Beverly moved around downstairs. He slipped as silently as he was able through the house. Even injured, he made only the tiniest of sounds moving across the carpet. He could hear Beverly moving about the kitchen, singing softly along with the radio.

At the base of the stairs he paused.

"_I will sing of your mercies that lead me through valleys of shadow to rivers of joy…" _

Her voice lilted, keeping perfect tone and rhythm. Don took half a step toward the kitchen, drawn as if to a siren's song, before he shook himself and turned toward the front door. Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob, careful to move slowly so the click of the latch would be muted. He half-expected a shout from behind him, running feet, clutching hands…

_What would she do if she found me leaving? She's strong, for a human, and I still don't feel up to a fight. Would she try to stop me? Better not chance it. Best to just slip away, disappear into the shadows. _Donatello sighed. _I didn't get a chance to say 'thank you'. Or even 'goodbye'._ For an instant, he stood on the porch.

_It's so peaceful here,_ he thought, looking off into the darkness. _So quiet. I could learn to like it here…_ He shook himself and stepped off the porch. _I've got to get out of here. Got to get home. Got to find Mikey before Jack does. He'll be looking for me by now… _

Donatello set off toward the woods, moving silently through the night, determined to reach his brother. He took up a half-jogging pace, deliberately controlling his breathing.

Within a quarter-mile, he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep from gasping for air. He stopped for a moment, leaning against a small tree, listening to the sounds of the night around him.

_Shell, I feel so weak. I'll never get back to the farm-house at this rate. I guess I should've taken Beverly's truck after all. It seems a poor way to repay her, stealing her truck after she's been so kind to me, but I don't think I have a choice. We can return it later._

Don turned, meaning to head back toward Beverly's home. He took a few steps forward before the wave of dizziness washed over him, driving him to his knees. He retched, but nothing came up. Finally he forced his burning limbs to move, struggling to his feet. Don took a moment to orient himself again. He felt a chill.

_I don't know which way takes me back to Beverly's. I don't know which way the farmhouse is. We drove along a little dirt road in the truck… I was half-asleep, don't remember how far we drove, or what direction… How'm I going to find my way back?_

He leaned against the tree, despair threatening to overwhelm him. Straightening, he forced himself to take a few more wobbling steps. When he stumbled again, his hand brushed against something rough which scraped skin off his knuckles. Donatello swore under his breath. He waited for his head to clear.

Feeling something solid under his fingers, he moved his hand. A branch… long and sturdy, lay under his hand. He grasped it, feeling its weight and balance. Slowly, he lifted the branch, sticking the end against the ground and using it to support himself as he slowly got to his feet again.

Leaning on the branch was a relief to his aching muscles and whirling head. Slowly, painfully, he made his way forward, fumbling in the darkness. He stumbled on for what seemed like a long time. When he saw the glint of chrome in the moonlight, a sob of relief caught in his throat. He'd found his way back to Beverly's. The truck stood silent as a stone in the driveway. No lights shone from the windows.

_She's gone to bed. It must be past midnight,_ thought Don. He slipped, silent, across the yard. He reached instinctively for the tool pouch he kept tucked into his belt, groaning in despair when his hand touched bare shell.

He reached out, grasping the door handle as much for support as from any hope he might find the truck open. He gasped when the mechanism moved under his hand, the door swinging open with a single tug.

_Well, I've come this far,_ he thought. He climbed into the cab with a little difficulty. He had to set his knee on the door sil, and pull himself up by holding on to the steering wheel.

_Too bad I can't ask Beverly for a boost. I can't believe she was strong enough to lift me up like that. I guess I really have lost weight,_ he thought. He scrambled up onto the seat and leaned over, under the dashboard, fighting off a wave of nausea as he found the wires he needed and started making connections. His fingers were slick with sweat, making it difficult to hold on to the wires.

He blinked the salt from his eyes and made the last connection, wincing as the engine roared to life. He sat up faster than he should have, and had to blink the stars from his vision. No lights came on in the house. With a sigh of relief, Donatello shifted the vehicle into gear and drove carefully down the driveway, rolling out onto the dirt road.

Strong instinct against going _toward_ Jack's place made him turn to the left. He had no idea where he was going, but he figured away from Jack's was a good start.

_I'm sorry, Beverly,_ he thought. _I'll find a way to get your truck back to you, I promise._

He drove slowly, trying to focus on the road. Twice he felt himself begin to tilt to one side and had to snap his head back up and jerk the truck back to the center of the road.

_Got to stay awake. Can't pass out._

Don rolled down the window. Even the cool night air flowing around him couldn't combat the heat that seemed embedded under his skin, trying to burn its way out. His vision was blurring, making it harder to focus on the road. He let the truck choose its own speed, taking his foot off the gas entirely now. The road stretched out before him.

_A few feet at a time. If I can just drive a few more feet… then a few more after that… eventually I'll get somewhere. What the shell? Where'd the road go? When did I run out of road?_

Donatello blinked hard, trying to focus as the truck rolled forward. He heard grass swishing against the side panels as the vehicle rolled off the dirt track and into a field. He sat for a long moment, trying desperately to focus, before he realized the truck had come to a stop.

_Oh shell. I can't drive any further. But I have to keep going._ A sense of urgency drove the turtle. He pushed at the door, trying to open it. When it wouldn't give, he threw himself against the door, desperate to escape.

His breath came short and shallow, panting in his panicked efforts to open the stubborn door. Finally his fingers caught at the handle, and the door fell open, spilling him out into the tangled grass.

Don lay there for a long moment, panting. The grass felt cool and sharp as razors against his skin. He moved, half-afraid the green blades would cut into him, but they brushed his arms and let him go unscathed. Donatello staggered to his feet and forced himself to begin walking. His legs felt weighed down as if with lead. Each step took all his energy. He swayed, and forced himself up right, forced himself to keep going, to keep moving forward.

_Got to get away. Got to get to Mikey before Jack does. Got to get out of here… back to the farmhouse. Got to keep moving…_ The thoughts rolled through his mind like a mantra, giving him the strength to take one more step and another and another.

Somewhere in the distance he heard a dog bark, and a thrill of panic shot through him. Don surged forward, trying to run, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. He stumbled, falling flat on his plastron. He lay, huddled and trembling, for several long heartbeats.

When no fierce teeth dug into his exposed arms or legs, no hot breath touched his neck, no coughing roar of an attacking dog sounded, he lifted his head, peering hazily at the grass prison surrounding him. He was tempted, for a moment, to stay where he was, cradled in the soft nest of the grass, hidden from prying eyes.

The faintest of lights showed him that dawn was near. His grass hiding-place would soon be inadequate, exposed by the light of the unforgiving sun. He had to find shelter, had to conceal himself. If only he weren't so tired… so very tired.

Slowly, painfully, Donatello made it to his hands and knees. Another distant bark gave him the energy he needed to start moving forward, crawling through the thick vegetation.

The grass that would've hidden him was not going to give up its prisoner so easily. It caught at him, pulling at his hands and knees, dragging, holding him back as he tried to move forward. Donatello flailed, desperate. The blades caught between his fingers, catching at his skin, tickling his face with teasing, flickering caresses.

The dog barked again, sounding nearer this time. He gasped, sobs catching in his throat. Donatello was trapped inside a nightmare, desperately fighting to move forward, held back by the sluggish movements of his uncooperative limbs and the insidiously soft grass that seemed to cling to him, pulling him down into its depths.

When he collapsed, exhausted to the ground, the darkness claimed him almost instantly.

_I'm sorry, guys. I tried…_ was the last thought to cross his mind as he passed out, laying in the middle of the field, Beverly's truck still idling a bare twenty feet from where he lay.


	12. Chapter 12 Mikey

**A/N: Sorry, evil cliffy in the last chap, I know. I hope this makes up for it, a little.  


* * *

**_Chapter 12 -Mikey-  
~~~_

Raphael scowled as Leonardo turned yet another corner. He stared at the shell-cell in his hand, watching the dot that marked Michelangelo's tracer move wildly across the screen. His little brother had been staying still, but now he was moving at a reckless pace.

"Leo, I think Mikey's in trouble," April spoke Raph's fears aloud. She was perched at one of the monitors mounted in the side of the van, watching a larger version of Raphael's screen.

"What is it? What's wrong?" demanded Austin.

"He's movin' too fast," Raphael told her. "He's runnin'. Mikey don't run like dat unless something's… someone's… chasin' him."

"Trace it," said Leonardo through gritted teeth. "We'll meet him."

"Turn right as soon as you can, Leo," instructed April, her eyes intent on the screen. "We're just over a mile off."

"Let me out." Austin's voice was steady but strained. "Let me out here. I can cut through the woods, find him…"

"No, Austin. If Mike's in trouble, he's going to need all of us," said Leonardo quickly.

Raphael shook his head. He knew Leo wasn't about to let Austin go off on her own. He also knew unless Leo pulled over, she'd climb out the window of the moving van to get to Michelangelo.

"Leo, if Mikey's in trouble, I've got to go to him," insisted Austin.

"Leo, Austin's right," he said. "One of us oughta go after 'im."

"Raph…"

"I'll go, Leo," said Raphael quietly. "Austin can go wit' me. We can find Mikey, an' you can meet us wit' da Battle-Shell."

"Ok." Leonardo reluctantly pulled over to the side of the road.

Ann grasped Raph's hand briefly. "Be careful," she said.

"Always am, Babe," said Raph, smiling into her brown eyes. She gave him a hard look before letting him go. He held her fingers briefly to his face, nuzzling them before letting her go. She drew back reluctantly, looking as if she'd say more, but resigned.

Sliding the side door open, Raph had to move aside to let his sister-in-law pass. Austin jumped to the ground, hardly waiting for Raph to close the door before taking off, her eyes glued to the screen of her shell-cel.

"Austin! Hey, Austin, wait up!" Raphael called. She slowed slightly, allowing him to catch up with her. Raph scowled. Austin could be as stubborn as any of them. He suspected she only let him catch up because she knew he'd grab her up and carry her if she were in danger of getting out of his sight.

_Mikey'd never forgive us if anything happened to Austin_, thought Raph.

"How far?" he asked.

He knew they were less than a mile off, but figuring the distance would give her something to think about, something practical to distract her mind from the fearful images that were certain to be hovering at the edges of her imagination.

"About five-eighths of a mile," she said grimly. Her stride wasn't as long as Raph's but she kept her swift, steady pace. Raph half-jogged, keeping up easily. He noticed with pride that her breathing was precise, controlled.

_Those lessons wit' Master Splinter are payin' off. She's almost as strong as one of us now,_ he thought. _Mebbe it's time ta talk ta Leo about letting her go wit' us on some light patrols. Not'in dangerous, but it'd be interestin' ta see if she can keep up on a rooftop run._

They'd gone far enough to be close when Austin stopped short in front of Raph. He swore, dodging to the side to avoid bowling the slender girl over.

"Little warnin', Sis," he growled.

"Sorry, Raph," she whispered. "He's close." She cupped her hands around her mouth. "Mikey! Michelangelo!" she called in a soft, carrying voice.

Raph strained to pick up any sound in the pre-dawn besides the racket of the birds. A half-sob was muffled, but he whipped his head in the direction of the sound, drawing his sai with a growl. Austin didn't hesitate. She took off in the direction of the noise, moving like a shadow through the trees. Raph swore again and increased his pace, catching up to his sister-in-law. He grabbed her wrist. She spun around, striking out instinctively to break his hold.

"Austin! At least let me check it out first," he growled.

"He's hurt," she snapped, trying to pull away.

Raph held on. "Austin, you know if somet'in could hurt one o' us, you can't fight it!" he hissed. "Let me go firs' an' make sure he's ok."

"All right," she said.

Raphael let her go, knowing she'd stay put now. Austin could be as hot-tempered as he was himself and as impulsive and emotional as Mikey, but she was also sensible and practical. She'd let him go forward first, just so one of them would get to Michelangelo quickly.

"Mikey? Mikey, where are ya?" Raph's golden gaze could just pierce the dim light. He heard a movement above his head, and looked up with a growl.

"Raphy, is that you?" His brother's voice sounded small and lost from the branches above.

Something brushed Raph's arm, making him spin, taking a defensive stance.

"It's me," said Austin quickly, before he could drive a sai into her. Raph lowered his hands, shaking at the near-miss.

"Austin, don't sneak up on me like dat!" he snapped.

Austin ignored him. She shimmied up the tree like a monkey.

"Mikey? Mike, are you ok? Oh no! Mike, what'd you do?"

Raphael heard her voice go high with worry.

"What is it? Is he hurt?" he asked.

"It… it was a dog," Mikey's shaky answer drifted down to him.

"Raphael, can you help him down?" asked Austin. "I'll help him balance, but he can't jump. He's got a bad wound to the back of his leg."

"Yeah, I can catch 'im," said Raph. He backed up, peering into the dark leaves above, trying to gauge how his brother would come down. He heard Michelangelo grunt, and Austin speak to him softly, comforting.

"Hold the branch, Mike," she instructed.

"Yeah, I can swing down," he replied. "As long as you're sure that dog's not down there."

"There ain't no dog, Mikey. If there was, I'd kick 'im inta next week fer bitin' ya," growled Raph.

He heard Austin chuckle. She spoke softly again, in Japanese this time, to Michelangelo. Raph heard his brother's breathing hitch for an instant, then steady out into a calmer, slower rhythm. Raph shook his head. Austin's ability to calm and comfort Mikey was nothing short of miraculous.

"He's coming down, Raph," called Austin. Raphael braced himself, holding up his hands to catch Mikey's legs as they swung down.

The smell hit him before his fingers slipped over the skin of his brother's calf, slick and sticky with drying blood. Raph grunted as Mike's weight settled into his arms. He carefully lowered the younger turtle to the ground. Austin dropped lightly down from the tree, kneeling beside Mikey who sank down in the leaf litter. Immediately she went to his head, cradling it in her lap.

"Call Leo," she said to Raph. "He's not going to be able to walk out of here."

"You got it, Sis," said Raphael. He was already flipping his shell-cel open.

"What is it, Raphael?" Splinter's familiar face appeared on the screen. "Your brother is driving."

"We've got Mikey, Sensei. He's hurt. We're gonna need Leo to come help us carry him out."

"How severely?" Splinter's voice was slightly strained.

"Not bad," said Raph shortly. "But he hurt his leg. He can't walk. He says it was a dog, Sensei."

"Very well. We will come to your location," said Splinter. "Stay with him. Your brother will be there shortly."

"Ok, Father." Raph flipped his shell-cell closed.

"Mikey, you knuckle-head, how'd you get yerself bit?" he asked, turning his golden glare on his youngest brother. He knelt down, taking Mike's leg gently in his hands. He whistled softly at the damage. It was mostly superficial, but Mike would need stitches.

_Aw, shell, Donny, I wish you were here. Ape can do dis kind o' work, but you're da one who's best at it._

"It… was a… big ol' dog," said Mike. He laid his head back in Austin's lap, letting her fingers caress his face. Austin took off her button-down shirt, revealing a white tank-top underneath. Wordlessly she held it out to Raph. He took it, and after a moment's hesitation began tearing it into strips to bind Mike's leg.

"He was hidin' under the porch. I… I was gonna see if Donny was in the cabin…"

"Mike, you idiot," snapped Raphael, anger and worry surging in his chest as he saw the amount of blood caked on his brother's leg.

"There was a barn, Raph," Michelangelo managed, ignoring his brother's outburst. "With a horse and stalls…"

"Dat barn you were in, I know," said Raphael. "Did ya find anyt'ing?"

Michelangelo shook his head. He didn't open his eyes. "No."

Despair threatened to overwhelm Raphael. Michelangelo had gotten himself injured for nothing. He hadn't found their missing brother. Raph tied the last knot and stood up, stalking off a few paces. He heard Austin's soft voice speaking quietly to Michelangelo and his brother's low reply.

"The trail led to the barn," insisted Mike. "An' the horse wasn't scared of me. Don was there, I _know_ he was. We've got to go back. Raphy, we've got to find him." Raphael turned to glance at his brother. The light was stronger now, making a dappled pattern on Mike's face. Tears glistened in the patchy light, soaking his mask and streaking down his cheeks. Austin carefully lifted his mask away, leaning forward to kiss his head gently.

Raph turned away. He wasn't comfortable witnessing intimate moments between his brother and sister-in-law. They were too personal, too private somehow. The feeling had been intensified, rather than diminished, by his own relationship with Ann. Except lately, as it seemed they were quicker to argue than to comfort one another.

"Raph, I think Mikey might be on to something. We'll have to go back to wherever he was," said Austin softly.

"Austin, he found an old barn an' a dog dat took a chunk outta 'im. How's dat gonna help us find Don?" snapped Raphael. He regretted his harsh tone almost immediately.

"Mike's a good tracker," insisted Austin. "I think we should follow the lead."

"All right," said Raph, twirling a sai before he tucked it into his belt. "As soon as Leo gets here an' we take care o' Mikey, I'll go an' scout it out. Mebbe I can find somet'in."

"I'll go with you," said Austin.

"No, Austin." Michelangelo reached up to grasp her hand. His blue eyes opened wide, and he stared up at her. "You can't. You can't go near that dog!"

Mikey was trembling. Austin smoothed her fingers over his forehead, sliding them down to rub his neck and shoulders gently, but he struggled to sit up, turning to face her. He reached and grasped her arms.

"Promise me," he insisted. "Promise me you won't go near that place."

"Mike, we've got to find Donatello," said Austin softly.

"No, Austin. Let Raph and Leo handle it. Please." Desperation was creeping into Mike's voice.

"Don't worry, Mike. Leo an' me'll handle it," said Raph. He knelt beside his brother and reached to touch his arm. He looked into Austin's hazel eyes. "We won't let not'in happen to Donny, or Austin, either."

Michelangelo collapsed against his wife, wrapping her up in his arms. Austin shot Raphael a glare over Mike's shoulder. He met her gaze with a grin.

_Sorry, Austin. Yer gonna hafta sit dis one out. _


	13. Chapter 13 Storm

_Chapter 13 -Storm-  
~~~_

Beverly opened her eyes and groaned, stretching. She was stiff and sore from sleeping in the guest bed.

_One of these days I've got to replace that mattress_, she thought. _Why was I sleeping in here, anyway? _ She sat up, looking around the room. _I was looking at pictures last night and I came upstairs to check on… Donatello!_

Beverly's eyes went wide as the memory of the night before flooded into her mind. She got to her feet and made her way down the hall to her own bedroom, clutching her robe about her body. Slowly, cautiously, she pushed the bedroom door open. She gasped when she saw the empty bed, the blankets pushed aside, rumpled.

_Where is he?_

She stepped into the room, glancing about. The room was empty. She crossed the bedroom, yanking open the closet door. She didn't really expect to find her green visitor hiding in the closet, but Beverly couldn't help looking.

_What on earth? Where would he go? Surely Jack couldn't have gotten in here… No. I would've heard. Wait, what's this?_ She picked up the scrap of paper from the nightstand with trembling fingers.

_Dear Beverly- Thanks. I'm sorry. Don  
_

"Oh, Donatello." The whisper echoed loud in the empty room. Beverly sank down on the edge of the bed. The sheets were cool under her fingers. He'd been gone for several hours at least. Quickly, she searched the rest of the house. Donatello was nowhere to be found. Bev was surprised to find tears sliding down her cheeks.

_Why? Why does it bother me so much that he's gone? He's probably safer away from here, out of Jack's reach. Maybe his brothers came for him after all… But he was so weak. He can't possibly have gone far. I just hope he's all right. _

She went back to her bedroom and began gathering her clothes for the day. Carrying her things to the bathroom, she smiled when she saw the shower curtain she'd put back up the night before.

_He was so cute, blushing when I washed his neck,_ she thought. _But the way he fell… He was still very weak. I hope he's ok._

She gave herself a little shake. _There's no sense in worrying about him. It's obvious he felt well enough to leave. He's a grown… turtle. I'm sure he can take care of himself._

Still, the desperation in Donatello's eyes when he spoke of his brothers, the fear she'd seen flash there… Beverly couldn't help the worry that nagged at the back of her mind. 

_How desperate was he to leave, to escape before Jack found him again?_

She stepped into the shower, washing her hair and rinsing the suds away. Her breath caught in her chest as she remembered his skin under her fingertips. She pushed the thoughts away impatiently.

_He's gone and I'll never see him again,_ she told herself. _I might as well get used to the idea. It's better this way. He's safer._

She dried her hair impatiently, running a comb through her strawberry-blond curls. She slipped into a clean tee-shirt and jeans and headed down to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea.

Glancing out the kitchen window, she froze and swore. Her truck was gone. Leaving the tea forgotten on the counter, she hurried to the front door, throwing it open. The driveway was empty. The truck was really gone. Beverly swore again and stalked down the porch steps.

_I can't believe this. After all I did for him, he repays me by stealing my truck? He won't have to worry about Jack, if I catch up with him…_

She knelt in the driveway, examining the tracks. She walked slowly to the dirt road, not really expecting to find anything useful, but frowned as she stared at the tire-tracks, clearly leading to the _left._

_He was disoriented,_ she thought._ Scared. Maybe lost. He didn't know it's a dead-end. But he would've just turned around and gone back, wouldn't he?_

She frowned, staring at the tracks. They led clearly to the left. She looked at the road, but didn't see any tracks leading back from the narrow dirt track that ended at a field at the edge of her property. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Beverly looked up at the threatening storm clouds and shivered. She certainly didn't look forward to getting caught out in a storm. Still… the tracks led clearly down the lane. Beverly cursed colorfully and started walking.

Fat raindrops were spattering down by the time Beverly spotted her truck. She picked up her pace when she saw it, half-way out into the grassy abandoned hay field. The rain was falling harder now, the thunder rumbling almost continually as lightening split the sky. Beverly wasn't sure if the wetness on her cheeks was rain or tear drops as she dashed through the thick, heavy grass, worry consuming her.

She saw the path of trampled grass through the field, spotted the golden-caramel shell and green limbs sprawled in a heap beyond the truck. She rushed to his side, kneeling, and touched Don's neck. She gasped, sobbing with relief as she felt his pulse, weak but steady under her fingers.

She pulled at Donatello's shell, turning him over. His body was limp, slack and unresisting under her hands. His head lolled back and the rain poured over his face, making his skin glisten. Carefully, she lifted him up to nearly a sitting position. Grasping the edges of his shell, Beverly dragged Donatello back toward the truck, wincing as the lightening flashed again over head, rattling the very ground with the rumble of thunder that followed.

Another flash and she cried out, crouching to shield him with her body, but she refused to let go. She hauled him back to the truck, yanking the passenger door open with one hand. Sliding her hands under his arms, she lifted, setting his shell on the edge of the door-sil before letting go to get a better grip. She wrapped her arms around him from the front, lifting him up so that his shell rested on the truck seat. Finally she folded his legs up and into the truck and closed the door gently.

Hurrying around to the other side, she scrambled into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut just as another lightening bolt lit up the sky. Thunder rattled the very windows, making the image in the rearview mirror vibrate. Beverly reached for the key and realized it wasn't in the ignition. That's when she noticed the wires sticking out from under the dashboard. She stared, shaking her head in disbelief.

_He hot-wired my truck? Good grief, what else is he capable of? Where did he learn to hot-wire a truck? Why am I surprised? He knows about genetics and DNA. I wonder just how smart this guy… this turtle, is._

She looked over at Donatello. He was slumped over in the seat. With a sigh, she reached over, tugging his shell so he lay more comfortably back against the cushion. He tilted toward her and she found herself cradling his head and shoulders against her side. She started to push him up, away, but he moaned softly, shivering.

"It's all right," she whispered, brushing her hand across his brow.

"Sensei?" He half-whispered, moving restlessly against her.

"You're safe, Donatello," she said softly. She laid a hand on his plastron. "Just relax now. I'll take care of you."

"April?" A three-fingered, very muscular hand came up slowly, grasping her fingers weakly, clinging.

Beverly shifted, moving her legs so she could cradle his head and neck in her lap. She stroked his brow gently, watching as the lines of tension eased. He relaxed against her, his breathing evening out and deepening. She frowned, feeling his skin, too warm under her fingers.

_He's feverish,_ she thought. _Oh, Donatello. What were you thinking? Why did you try to run?_

Bev winced as another rumble of thunder shook the truck, but the storm was moving off. The rain had slowed and the wind wasn't howling quite so loudly now. With one last flash, the clouds withdrew, grumbling angrily as they broke apart, allowing the sky to show through in timid blue patches.

Still she sat, holding the turtle in her lap, waiting for the storm to pass. He didn't open his eyes or stir, only shivered occasionally. Beverly felt heat radiating through his plastron.

_He's really sick. I've got to get him back to the house. _

As the last rumbles of thunder died away, she made up her mind. Carefully, she slid her leg out from under Donatello's head. She reached behind the seat for the light jacket she kept there and rolled it up to form a pillow.

Gently, she disengaged her hand from his fingers. A faint whimper escaped him at the loss of contact. Beverly froze, staring at the turtle. Something in her heart twisted. He looked so lost, so vulnerable, lying there. Slowly, cautiously, she brushed her fingers across his forehead one more time. He relaxed again, his breathing deepening. He sighed softly. Beverly smiled. She cracked a window open so that the interior of the truck wouldn't heat up too much before she returned.

Sliding carefully out, she locked the truck and closed the door gently behind herself, careful not to wake the sleeping turtle. She ran all the way back to the house. She was gasping for air by the time she raced up the front steps. Snatching the spare key from the rack inside the front door, she prayed that whatever Donatello had done to the wiring wouldn't keep the truck from starting.

The gas can was half-full in the shed. She grabbed that up. There was no way to know if there would be gas in the truck, but she figured it was better to take the can than to discover she needed it and not have it. She rushed back down the road, worried Donatello might've woken up and tried to drive off again, but her passenger was still stretched out on the seat where she'd left him.

Carefully, she unlocked the truck and turned the key in the ignition. To her relief, the engine turned over, but then spluttered to a stop. She glanced at the gas-gauge. Sure enough, the needle rested firmly on "E". Beverly climbed down from the cab and quickly dumped the contents of the can into the gas tank. This time when she started the truck, it roared to life and the engine settled into the heavy, familiar purr.

"Come on, Donatello. Let's get you home," she said softly, touching his hand again. He shifted slightly. A faint smile tugged at his face. He sighed. Beverly shook her head.

"I'm mad at you, you know. You stole my truck," she told him, but she couldn't force any anger into her tone.

She turned around carefully in the field and pulled out onto the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lightly on Donatello's plastron, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as she drove.

* * *

**A/N: Oh come on, you didn't _really_ think I'd let Jack get Donny back, now did you? **


	14. Chapter 14 Safety

_Chapter 14 -Safety-  
~~~_

_Cold… so cold… _Donatello shivered. He was burning with an icy fire. It licked at his skin, freezing where it touched. He heard a voice, far away, calling his name.

_Donatello! Donatello, please wake up. You've got to be all right. Wake up, Donatello… come back._

_Father?_

The voice was familiar, but wrong somehow. Not Splinter.

Gentle fingers touched his brow. A soft weight settled on his plastron. He moved his arm, fighting the heavy, dragging soreness, and touched the slim fingers, gripping them. He was reassured, anchored by the touch. Relaxing, he let the darkness take him again, drifting.

When the darkness receded, he was moving. He became aware of his legs supporting some of his weight. Someone was tugging at him, forcing him forward. The weight was too much, crushing. His legs felt like molten lead; he was unable to lift the dragging heaviness, unable to go any further. A voice spoke near his ear.

_Donatello. Stay with me. You've got to walk. I can't carry you up the stairs. Come on, now. You've got to try…_

Don forced his legs to move. The urgency in the voice pushed him forward. The voice was soft, but determined. It would not let him rest until he did its bidding. All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and drift… Another step up, and another.

He might as well have tried to climb a mountain. His foot came up again. Someone was lifting him, holding him, supporting him, making it easier. Don forced himself to keep moving. There were no more steps up, only softness under his feet. Still, he was urged forward. His legs dragged now. He couldn't lift his feet. Shuffling along, he kept moving until the voice said he could stop.

_Ok, Donatello, we're here. You can rest now. You're going to be ok._

He felt himself lowered down, gently, into softness. Hands on his plastron, pushing him back. Something cool and smooth touched the back of his head. He drew a deep, sighing breath.

_Strawberries. _

Don sank into merciful darkness for a time.

***

He was walking… walking through a field. Everything around him was dark, save for a patch of light that seemed to surround him, making him feel vulnerable, exposed. He crouched, trying to conceal himself in the grass, but rasping, hoarse laughter rang out, sending thrills of panic through him.

He stood and tried to run but he found ropes binding his wrists and ankles, dragging him down to his knees. Jack Koban loomed out of the darkness, grinning maniacally.

_You'll never escape, Turtle. And now I have your brothers as well…_

Michelangelo appeared before him, hanging lifeless at the end of a rope, the noose tight around his neck. He was limp, dangling. The blue eyes were clouded over, staring into eternity.

_No! _Donatello screamed, struggling, fighting against the ropes. Mikey was fading, swirling away like fog. In his place, another, darker figure appeared. Dark green skin contrasted sharply with scarlet rivulets running across a golden plastron. Sobs shook Donatello's body. Raphael, his face and neck torn, ripped by the teeth of a snarling dog, screamed as the monster sank its teeth into his arm. Donatello could only watch in helpless terror as the dog attacked again, as the life drained from his brother's body and he slumped to the ground.

_Why, Don? How could you let this happen?_ Leonardo's voice echoed, dark eyes looming out of the darkness, glaring, accusing. _You were supposed to protect them. You were supposed to keep us safe. How could you do this?_

Jack loomed large out of the darkness, his face taking Leo's place.

_Did you know that cold increases pain? _He whispered, close to Donatello's face.

_No!_ Donatello was gasping now, panting, trying desperately to draw breath into his burning, aching chest. _No!_

Jack's blade rested against his arm. _There are tendons running up through your arm, just here. And here. _He moved the tip of the knife, leaving a trail of nicks to mark his place. _If I were to slice them, your hands wouldn't work any more._

The blade dug deeper, just touching the precious ligaments, making Donatello's arm twitch as if a burning wire were connecting his shoulder to his fingertips just under his skin.

_Stop it!_ Donatello was screaming now, terror driving the words out of him, sobs wracking him. _Stop it… you're crazy!_

_Oh, I'll stop. As soon as you tell me what I want to know._

_I told you, I'm not from any lab! _

_Wrong answer._

The blade drove into his skin, tearing, slicing, just missing the tendon.

_One more chance, Turtle. Will you tell me who sent you, or will I cut your arm?_

An animal roar ripped forth from Donatello's chest as the knife blade sank in again. The water poured over him, stinging the open cuts on his arm, stealing his air, drowning him.

_Turtles can hold their breath for hours,_ A logical voice spoke in the back of his mind, arguing against the panic that made his limbs shake and writhe.

_I can't breathe… can't breathe… it's so cold…_

He tried to draw a breath, only to bring water into his lungs, filling the space where air belonged, choking him. He coughed, retching, his arms burning with pain as he jerked against the ropes.

_No… no more… I can't bear any more…_

_You can't give us up, Donatello_. Leonardo's voice, cold, commanding. _You can't tell him anything. You can't betray your clan. You have to be strong, Donatello. _

Don was gasping for air, fighting against the ropes, fighting against the whimpers that rolled forth from his throat. Jack's face loomed close, snarling.

_I'm going to find out. I'm going to find out where you came from. _

_No!_ Donatello shrank away from the man. The images of his brothers, injured and dying, filled his mind. He writhed against the ropes. _No, leave them alone!_

The man, approaching with a belt in his hands, yanking his head back, wrapping the leather strap around his face…

_If you won't talk to me, you won't talk at all!_

The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him. Even his voice had been stolen from him. He couldn't even cry out, couldn't call for help…

***

"Donatello!" The voice came from far away, echoing through the darkness. Jack's laughter echoed again, sounding fainter.

"Donatello, wake up!" The voice was closer now. Don became aware of something cool brushing his forehead. He squirmed, turning his face away. Soft fingers brushed his brow. "Hush now. You're safe. I'll take care of you."

Slowly, slowly, sensation returned to Donatello's body. He became aware of soft, cool sheets under his limbs, a light blanket covering him. Something warm brushed his arm and fingers cupped his cheek. He shied away instinctively.

"It's ok, Donatello. You're safe here." The soft voice soothed his fear and he relaxed into the softness. The cool, rough dampness touched his forehead again, easing the heat that still burned under his skin. A name came to him, a name associated with strawberries… but his tongue felt swollen and heavy and his jaw wouldn't cooperate, wouldn't open to form words, so he lay silent and still, drifting.

_Beverly…Why do I know that name? _

Something soft and warm moved next to him, brushing his arm again. The cool dampness moved away from his head. He shivered with the chill it left behind. He heard a noise and panic spiked in his chest.

_Water._ Dripping, pouring… Donatello's breath came in short, painful gasps. He struggled to open his eyes, to lift his head but it was as if he were struggling against wet sand. His head felt heavy and his eyelids might as well have been welded closed. He whimpered, shivering, flinching, anticipating the cold, endless waves of water pouring over him. The fingers were back, brushing his forehead, soothing, comforting.

"Hush… you're safe here."

"No… no more…" His throat closed as if it would hold back the moan, even as it escaped him. "Leo… Mikey… Raph…" Tears stung and slid down his face.

"They're safe. No one will hurt them. You're safe now. It's ok, Donatello." The voice reassured him gently.

"Don't… let… Jack…" Don struggled to get the words out. "Got… to… warn…" Every sound was an effort. His body shuddered, shivering. He was cold… so cold.

"We will, Donatello, after you rest. Don't worry. You're going to be ok now. You're safe here."

The bed shifted, moving. A weight settled on his plastron. Instinctively, he moved toward the comforting warmth at his side, pressing closer. Fingers played against his forehead and something soft and tickling brushed his shoulder. The scent of strawberries was stronger now, filling him with an odd feeling of protection and safety.

"Got… to… keep… them safe," he murmured.

"Hush, Donatello. You're going to be ok now." The voice was close, surrounding him, soothing him.

This time when the darkness closed in, it brought only peace.


	15. Chapter 15 False Hope

**A/N: Sorry, guys. Especially Leo who will be particularly ticked. But this chap is important to the story.

* * *

**_Chapter 15 -False Hope-  
~~~_

Michelangelo whimpered, squirming as April cleaned his leg. Austin wrapped her arms more firmly around his shoulders. He was lying on his plastron on a bed in the farmhouse, his head in her lap, his arms firmly around her waist. The painkillers April had administered were helping, but no medicine could dull the sensation completely.

"Hold _still,_ Mikey," said April, trying to pin his leg with her hand while catching the edge of his torn skin with the needle in her other hand. "Or I'll have to ask Raph to sit on you."

"She's almost done, Mike," whispered Austin, stroking his head with her fingers.

The gentle caress went a lot further toward stilling the turtle than April's threats. Michelangelo knew Raph was too impatient, with his brother missing, to help hold him down. He was outside now, sitting on the porch, talking quietly with Leo and Splinter. They were planning the next move. With day-light upon them and Michelangelo injured, the family had retreated to the farmhouse to regroup and plan their strategy.

"Do you think he'll be able to walk, April?" asked Austin.

"He should stay off it for a few days at least," answered the red-head, glancing up from her delicate work. "But you know these guys."

"Gotta go get Donny," muttered Mike, his face half-buried in his wife's lap. "I gotta show Leo and Raph what I found. We gotta find Donny."

"We will, Mike, don't worry," said Austin. Her hold on her husband's shoulders tightened. "Don't worry. We'll find him. He's going to be ok."

"Gotta be ok," whispered Mike. "He's just gotta"

The girls exchanged glances, neither of them expressing the doubts and fears that clouded their minds.

"There. Just lie still now, Mike, and let me wrap this up, ok?" April snipped the thread, setting the needle aside. She stood up. "Hang on. I'll wash my hands and be right back, ok?"

"Ok, Ape. Thanks." Michelangelo shifted, trying to turn and look at his friend's handiwork.

"Be still, Mike," said Austin gently, pressing him down again. "She's not done yet."

"She's done stitching," protested Mikey, subsiding. He lay against his wife with a sigh. "You smell good, you know that?"

Austin laughed. "I love you."

"I love you too, Babe."

"Oh fer cryin' out loud. Can't you two give it a rest?" Raphael's voice shattered the tender moment. Mike did roll over then, sitting up to face his older brother.

"Whatsa matter, Raphy?" he teased. "You jealous 'cause Ann yells at you when you get hurt, instead of rubbin' your shoulders?"

"Nah." Raphael started to comment further, but a warning glare from Austin snapped his mouth closed. Teasing Michelangelo wasn't as much fun now that he had Austin to back him up. She could be mean in very subtle ways.

"Is April almost done wit' ya?" he asked, changing the subject. "We gotta get movin' while it's still light out so we can find Donny's trail."

"You guys haven't slept at all," protested Austin. "You need to rest for a few hours."

"Nah. Leo wants ta keep goin' while it's still light out," responded Raphael. "So we don't miss somet'in in da dark."

"Raph's right," said Mikey. He touched his wife's knee. "We gotta keep looking. There was something about that place…" he shivered. "Don's out there somewhere. We've got to find him."

"Ok, here are the bandages." April came into the room carrying gauze, salve and some strips of strong linen. "You'll have to hold your leg out straight for me, Mike, so I can wrap it. Maybe you can prop it on this chair." She pulled a small chair over, next to the bed. Michelangelo rested his heel on the chair, allowing April room to work around his injured limb. She applied the salve and bandages expertly, tucking the end of the linen in to keep it from unraveling.

"There. How does that feel?"

"It's great, Ape, thanks," said Michelangelo with a grin. "What would we do without you, Sis?"

"You'd bleed," said April dryly, in a perfect imitation of Donatello.

Raphael chuckled. "Come on. Let's go," he said. Mikey scrambled to his feet. He put his weight experimentally on his injured leg, wincing only slightly.

"Are you going to be able to walk?" asked Austin.

"I think so," said Mike. "If not, Raphy'll have to carry me."

"Don't count on it, Knuckle-head," growled Raphael, crossing his arms over his chest. Both girls rolled their eyes.

"Honestly you two, don't you ever quit?" asked April.

"No. They don't," responded Austin.

April sighed and began gathering up the supplies. Raphael grabbed Mikey's arm, dragging him toward the door.

"Come on. We gotta get goin'."

"We're coming, too," said April firmly.

Raphael nodded. "Ok. Ann's gonna stay in case Don shows up here."

"Are you sure she'll be ok alone, Raphael?" asked Austin.

"Master Splinter's stayin' wit' her," said Raph. "I don't want 'er goin'."

Michelangelo smirked, but Raphael's glare silenced any comment he was thinking of making.

***

An hour later, the small band was moving like shadows through the trees. Michelangelo took the lead, leaning on a branch Leonardo cut for him to use as a crutch. Leo was close behind, followed by Austin and April, then Raphael. April carried her single short sword. Austin sported a han-bo, a short staff better suited to her height and weight than Donatello's full bo.

"Here," said Michelangelo, pointing. "This is where I found Donny's gear."

Leonardo bent to the ground, touching the leaves. "The rain's washed away any clues," he said.

"Well, I can show you where the dog was," said Mike with a shiver. "I'm sure that guy has something to do with Don disappearing, Leo."

"Ok, Mike but I want to search for any clues we might find here first," said Leo, straightening. "Don might've gone another way. I don't want to miss anything."

"I looked, Leo. The only trail leads right to that cabin," insisted Mike.

"Fearless is right, Mikey," growled Raphael. "We gotta search around a little more, make sure ya didn't miss not'in."

"Raph, you check that way." Leonardo pointed. "I'll move this way. Mike, why don't you rest here a minute?"

"No, Leo, I'm ok," said Michelangelo. "Austin and me'll check around here, see if the guy dropped anything."

"All right, Mike," said Leonardo. He nodded to Raphael and the two began a sweep of the area, searching for the smallest sign that their brother could be nearby.

Leonardo noted the marks where Don had managed to mar a tree with his shell. He frowned, fingering the damaged bark. Further along, he discovered a distinct footprint in the soft, loamy soil. It had been protected from the rain by some thick overhanging branches. Leo whistled. The print was deep, indicating a significant weight.

_Mike could be right. If he were carrying Don…_The mental picture of the man who's dog had attacked his brother, carrying Donatello through the woods, gave Leonardo a chill.

_But we don't know if this guy has Don. He could've been carrying almost anything. Oh, Don, where are you? _Leonardo moved on, searching for further clues, to no avail.

Raphael's luck wasn't much better. He scouted the area, but found barely a twig out of place. He frowned, bending to take a better look at some grass that had been flattened by something heavy. The stalks were bent, broken over, crushed under a weight, for a radius of several feet. Searching further, he found a small path winding through the trees. The leaves were disturbed, even more than could be accounted for by the storm.

_Looks like somebody's been fightin' here,_ he thought. _But da marks are old. Dis can't be from Donny._

Raph scowled, feeling the dirt under his fingers. Something wasn't right. He turned away with a snort of disgust and straightened, stretching his back. He almost missed the tiny flash of color caught in the bark of the tree a few yards in front of him. Raphael's eyes narrowed as he moved closer. A bit of checkered cloth was stuck under the bark of a small sapling. Raph noticed more broken twigs leading off into the woods.

_Somebody went dis way,_ he thought. _But Don would never leave such an obvious trail. _

He flipped open his shell-cel and pushed the button to buzz Leonardo's phone. Leo was only about a hundred yards away through the trees but using the cell saved them having to shout to one another.

"Yeah, Raph, what is it?"

"Somebody definitely went dis way, Leo, but it wasn't Donny. It coulda been dat guy Mikey saw, though."

"I found a pretty deep footprint leading toward the east," said Leonardo. "To where Mike said that cabin is."

"Mike searched da barn. He didn't find anyt'ing," said Raphael.

"That's true," responded Leonardo. "We already know where the cabin is. We know the guy is there and there was no sign of Donatello. We'll follow the trail you've found. Maybe the guy has Don somewhere else."

"Sounds good ta me, Fearless."

"Wait where you are, Raph. I'll get Mike and the girls and come to you, ok?"

"Ok, Leo."

Raphael snapped his phone closed. He started moving through the woods along the trail he'd found. He knew his brothers wouldn't be far behind. As long as he moved slowly, Leo and the others would catch up easily. He hadn't gone far down the path when the slightest rustle of leaves behind him told him they were following. Even a ninja can't walk on dry leaves in absolute silence. Raphael smirked.

"Raph! Where are you?" Leo's soft call carried on the breeze, melting in to the background noise of the woods.

"Here, Bro," Raphael answered.

He stood still, waiting, while the others caught up to him.

"This is a pretty obvious trail," said Leonardo critically. "Don didn't come this way."

"What trail?" April was staring from one to the other as if they'd gone out of their minds. "I don't see anything."

"Look, April," Leonardo pointed. "See how the grass is bent down here? And this twig is broken…"

April stared. "Well, now that you point it out, I guess," she said uncertainly. "But how do you know it wasn't Don?"

"Don would never leave such an obvious trail," explained Leo patiently. "He's a lot more careful than this when he moves."

"Unless he was _trying_ to leave a trail," piped up Michelangelo.

"I doubt it, Mike. This is too clumsy to be Don," said Leo. He met the orange-banded turtle's eyes and sighed. "But still, it's a lead. Let's follow the trail and see where it takes us."

They trudged along for almost a mile before Leonardo stopped short, holding up his hand. He drew a katana. Raph came forward, putting himself between the girls and his injured brother and whatever had alerted Leo. He waited, tense, his sai gripped in his hands.

"There's someone up ahead. I'm sure I heard a voice," whispered Leonardo. "Mikey, Austin, April, stay here. Raph and I will check it out."

Michelangelo took the girls' hands pulling them back into the deeper shadows under the trees. Leonardo moved forward almost silently. He gestured to Raph, who nodded. The two slipped through the trees like fog in the night.

Soon they came to a small clearing. A dark shadow marked the entrance of what looked like a shallow cave. Leonardo's eyes narrowed behind his mask. He heard the voice again, a low groan, from inside the cave.

_Donny?_ Hope surged in Leo's chest. _Don, bro, we're coming for you._


	16. Chapter 16 Fever

**A/N: Aww, Donny... Checking Bev out! What would Splinter say? LOL

* * *

**_Chapter 16 -Fever-  
~~~_

Beverly wiped the cool cloth across Donatello's forehead. He was shivering again, as if he were freezing, though the heat rolled off him in waves. He moaned softly, writhing in his sleep. She gently brushed her fingers against his brow; having found the gesture calmed and soothed him.

"Mikey…" he whimpered.

"He's safe, Donatello," soothed Beverly, praying she was telling him the truth, that his brothers were indeed unharmed.

_He's so amazing. The poor guy. After everything he's been through, all he wants is to protect his family. _

She gently sponged his too-hot skin, dabbing the skin at his throat, where the blood vessels were closest to the surface. Don squirmed. Beverly touched his face gently, trying to comfort him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. The pain in his voice tore at Bev's heart. "I let you down…"

"No, Donatello," she told him firmly. She wasn't sure he could hear her but he seemed to orient on the sound of her voice, as if he could hear her somewhere beyond the tormented fever-dreams.

"You didn't do anything wrong." She dipped the cloth in the shallow bowl of water next to the bed, careful not to let the water splash noisily this time.

The first time she'd wrung out the rag, the sound of splashing water had nearly sent him into a panic attack. He'd tensed up, shaking all over, turning his head and moaning. Beverly remembered what he'd confessed about the water torture her brother had used. She knew he must have been remembering what Jack had done to him.

"You're safe now, Donatello," she whispered, sponging his face again.

_I can't leave him alone in this state,_ she thought. _But if I don't get some sleep soon, I'm going to collapse._

He moved again, groaning restlessly, and she laid her hand on his plastron to quiet him. Don's fingers moved, grasping her hand. Bev smiled in spite of herself.

"You're something else, you know that?" she whispered.

Donatello's eyes flickered once, as if he would look at her but they closed again quickly. He moved restlessly on the sheet. Beverly frowned, noticing red streaks on his plastron.

_He's bleeding? But how? From where? I didn't see any new injuries…_ She lifted his arm and gasped. Several of the small cuts along his forearm had opened and were leaking. Worse, angry red radiated along his arm. Clearly an infection was forming in the untreated wounds.

_Oh Donatello. If only you'd let me take care of this before,_ she thought.

Beverly eased her hand out of his grasp. She stood up and gathered her first-aid supplies. Carefully, she cleaned the wounds, flinching when he whimpered. Still, his eyes remained closed. When her fingers brushed an especially deep cut, Don nearly jerked out of her hand.

"No!" he rasped, twisting his head away. "No…" a low moan came from deep in his throat. "Stop it! Leave me alone…"

"Shh, you're safe now," whispered Beverly, touching his head. Sweat stood out in clear droplets, covering his brow with a sheen of glistening wetness. His hand came up as if he'd ward off a blow but Beverly caught his wrist, pushing his arm down. She laid her hand firmly over his, squeezing his wrist reassuringly.

"It's ok, Donatello. He can't hurt you any more," she said softly.

His twitching slowly eased and he relaxed again, subsiding into a deeper sleep. Beverly cleaned the wounds quickly, efficiently slathering antibacterial salve over them before wrapping his arm gently with bandages. She noticed, as she worked, just how close some of the cuts had come to vital tendons and arteries. One particularly deep gash on his wrist had her gasping in horror.

_Jack did this on purpose,_ she thought, searching Don's arm with gentle, probing fingers to confirm her suspicion. _These cuts are close to crippling him. Jack was torturing him, threatening to cause permanent damage. Oh, Donatello. No wonder you didn't want them touched. _

Tears slid down her cheeks as she treated and bandaged his other arm. Instinctively, she leaned forward, laying her cheek against his plastron. His slow, steady breathing was comforting. After a moment, she sat up, wiping her hand over her face.

_I really have to get some sleep,_ she thought. _But I don't dare leave him alone. What if he has another nightmare? He could hurt himself._ She stretched, yawning. _I'll sleep in here tonight. _

She stood up, and went to the guest room. Gathering all the blankets she could find, she carried them back to her own bedroom and made herself a bed on the floor. Lowering herself down, she laid her head on her spare pillow and closed her eyes, giving in to exhaustion.

***

When Beverly woke a few hours later, Donatello's chest was rising and falling steadily. She sat up and stretched, wincing as several joints popped back into alignment. When she touched his chest, the burning heat no longer radiated from his plastron.

_Thank goodness, the fever's broken. He'll probably sleep for a while, though. He must be exhausted. I just hope he's ok when he wakes up. He was trying to get away before. How am I going to convince him to stay in bed until he's well enough to leave? If he tries that again, he'll kill himself.  
__Sorry, Donatello but I'll tie you to the bed if I have to. You're not going anywhere, at least not for a while._

She made her way downstairs, stretching and yawning. In the kitchen, she turned the radio on, keeping the volume low and put a pan of water on to boil. She set about finding something soft and bland to offer her guest when he finally woke.

_He hasn't eaten properly in days. Better make it something simple, like cream of wheat,_ she decided.

She gathered the ingredients, putting water on to boil. Soon she'd prepared two steaming bowls of the soft cereal. She added a bit of brown sugar to her own, and set Donatello's portion aside to cool before setting tea water on to boil. A noise behind her had her spinning around, startled, nearly spilling the water.

Donatello stood in the kitchen doorway. He leaned on the frame, watching her with too-bright brown eyes. Even as Beverly started toward him, he swayed, nearly falling, far too weak to be on his feet, let alone moving around.

"Good morning," he said softly.

"Donatello, sit down, before you fall down," said Beverly, wrapping her arm around his shell about where his waist would be. She led him gently to a kitchen chair and helped him sit.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

He looked up at her again, trepidation and gratitude mixing in his gaze. "Better, thanks to you," he said.

"How much do you remember?"

"Not much. I… left. Then I woke up, back here. I guess… I guess I didn't make it very far, did I? I… hope I didn't cause you too much trouble."

Beverly scowled. "You stole my truck," she said.

Donatello ducked his head and a blush crept up his cheeks. "'m sorry," he murmured.

"Oh, Donatello." Bev sat down in the chair next to him, catching his hand in her own. He glanced at her, startled, but didn't pull away.

"Why did you leave?" she asked.

"I'm an idiot?" One eye-ridge rose comically and Beverly laughed.

"Yeah, you are," she said. "Didn't you know how sick you were?"

"I… I was scared," admitted Don. "Beverly, you don't understand. I have to get away from here. The others will be looking for me. I can't let my brothers get hurt because of me." His brown eyes pleaded with her for understanding.

"Donatello, I'm not going to do anything to cause your family harm, you must believe that," Bev assured him. "I'm not going to let Jack know where you are."

He held her gaze for a long moment, his expression uncertain, wary.

"Listen, your family must be worried about you. I have the feeling that you _can_ contact them somehow, but you're afraid to ask for help," said Beverly. "Please, Donatello, let me help you."

"I…" Don took a deep breath. "You're right." he admitted finally. "If you could… get to a telephone, you could call them. I'll give you my brother Mike's number. You could… warn him about Jack. Tell him I'm ok, so he doesn't come looking for me. Just tell him… I'll be home soon."

"Why don't you want him to know where you are?" she asked.

He gave her another look. "I… I'd rather get home on my own," he said finally. "I've caused them enough trouble."

"Donatello, they're probably worried sick about you," she said softly, touching his arm. "Please, at least let me tell them where you are."

"No. I started out to prove I could take care of myself, be on my own. I… I have to finish it."

He looked so determined; Beverly decided not to push the issue. She stood up.

"I've made some warm cereal," she said. "What do you like on your cream of wheat?"

"Ugh," muttered Don.

Bev grinned. "It's probably the most your stomach can handle right now," she told him.

"I know." Donatello sighed. "Ok, if you have a little honey or brown sugar, that would be good I guess."

"Honey, for you, I've got both," she quipped.

His laugh sounded startled. She met his gaze with a grin and was rewarded with a slow smile.

_Wow. His eyes are so… brown,_ she thought. She brought the bowl of cereal and the honey-jar to the table.

Don glanced up. "Do you have… I mean, if it's not too much trouble…"

"What?"

"Do you have any coffee?" he asked finally.

Beverly's eyebrows rose. "Coffee? Are you sure? It might come back up again," she warned.

Donatello shook his head. "No, I live on the stuff. I've been going into withdrawal without it. Please?" his brown eyes met hers, pleading.

Beverly grinned. "Ok, it's your stomach," she told him. She pulled a small coffeepot out of the cupboard and set it on the counter. She had to stretch to reach the filters and small can of ground coffee in the cupboard. When she turned to fill the carafe with water, she found Donatello staring. She met his gaze with a questioning look and he blushed, his olive skin going a deep, mottled shade of red.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"Yeah, 'm fine," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

Bev shook her head, confused. "O-k," she said, assembling the coffee.

Donatello perked up as the smell wafted through the kitchen. Beverly shook her head, pouring hot water over a teabag. She came to the table and perched, ladling milk over her now-cool cereal.

Don poked at the mush in his bowl. With a sigh, he spooned some honey over the cereal and took a small bite. He made a face, but swallowed.

Bev smiled. "You've got to eat," she said softly.

"I know," he responded. "I just wish I could eat something a little less…" he held the spoon up, letting the stuff drip into the bowl and shook his head.

Beverly laughed. She got up and fetched a mug from the cupboard. "Maybe this will make you feel better," she said, setting a steaming mug of coffee down in front of the turtle.

"Thanks." He reached for it, wrapping his fingers around the cup and lifting it to his face.

"Careful, that's hot!" she warned.

"It's ok," said Don. He breathed deeply, reverently, blowing over the steaming surface before taking a sip.

Beverly laughed at the expression of contentment that settled over his features. She shook her head, grinning.

"What am I going to do with you?" she asked playfully.

For an instant, she saw a grin and a flash of mischief cross his face.

"I don't know," he said innocently. "I guess you'll just have to think of something."

Beverly grinned. _Well I'll be. If I didn't know any better,_ she thought, _I'd think he was flirting with me._


	17. Chapter 17 Interlude

**A/N: A bit of fluff... The action will be picking up soon, tho... ;)  
**

* * *

_Chapter 17 -Interlude-  
~~~_

Donatello leaned back into the couch, holding a book.

"Who looks upon a river in a meditative hour, and is not reminded of the flux of all things?" He read.

_Emerson always did sound better read aloud_, thought Don_. It's hard to read aloud in the Lair, though. Leo gets distracted from his meditating. Raph complains about the noise. Mikey doesn't notice, usually, unless he's trying to draw._

"Throw a stone into the stream, and the circles that propagate themselves are the beautiful type of all influence. Man is conscious of a universal soul within or behind his individual life, wherein, as a firmament, the natures of Justice, Truth, Love, Freedom, arise and shine…"

He paused for a moment, glancing up at Beverly.

"Am I boring you with this? You did ask what I was reading."

"Not at all." Beverly smiled, stretching like a cat.

Don's breath caught in his throat and he had to look away.

"Emerson had a fascinating view of the world," she said. "Mom gave me that book of his essays not long before she passed away. I haven't read it in years. It's nice to hear it from someone who appreciates his thinking."

"He believed in a universal mind, a Creator," said Don. He set the book down on his lap, holding his place with his finger.

"Well, if you spend any amount of time in nature, you can see the patterns all around," responded Beverly.

"That's true," said Donatello. "A lot of the studies of biology and the sciences are about finding the patterns."

"What do you believe, Donatello?" asked Beverly. "About a Creator, I mean."

"Well…" Don considered for a moment. "I wouldn't call myself _religious_, exactly. I do believe there are things we simply can't explain. The more I learn, the more I discover how little I know. I'd like to think there is some larger purpose to life than to live and die. I guess that sounds silly."

Beverly watched him seriously. "No, I don't think so," she said slowly. "I agree. I don't believe in mere coincidence."

"Some things happen by chance," mused Donatello. "There's the chaos theory…"

"I suppose," said Beverly. "But I think a lot more things that happen seem to follow a greater plan. We can't always see how it fits together, but things usually work out in the end, don't they?"

"I guess you're right." Donatello smiled.

Beverly caught his gaze. Don blinked.

_Wow. _

"Do you want to rest, Donatello?" she asked, breaking the momentary spell. "You've been sitting up for a while now."

"No, it's good to be up and around," he said. "I hate laying in bed with nothing to do." He stretched, wincing as the muscles in his legs protested.

Beverly was watching him. "You should let me change the dressing on your leg," she said. "You don't need another infection."

Don nodded. "Yeah, that fever really wiped me out," he admitted.

"Why didn't you tell me the cuts on your arm were getting infected?" asked Beverly. "Donatello, you really put yourself in danger."

"I… I just couldn't," said Don, avoiding her gaze. "Beverly…" He took a deep breath and forced himself to look up at her. "I'm sorry. I really didn't want to cause you all this trouble."

"Donatello, it's ok," she said, moving to perch beside him on the couch. "I just wish you'd _trust_ me. I'm only trying to help you."

"I know." Don sighed.

Beverly touched his hand and he glanced at her. "Why don't I get the stuff to re-wrap your leg? You can wait here."

"Beverly, please, let me do it," said Don, leaning forward in an effort to struggle to his feet.

Bev shook her head decisively. "No, Donatello. Sit. I'll get it."

"Beverly…"

"Donatello." She stood in front of him, her arms crossed. He glared up at her and started to struggle up again. Beverly leaned forward, putting her hands on his shoulders, forcing him back on the couch.

"Hey! Cut it out," protested Don, squirming. He lifted his hands to push her off, looking up and… stopped. Her eyes, startlingly blue, met his. Don drew a sharp breath.

"Stay _put_," she insisted.

Don wasn't sure, but he thought her voice sounded just a little breathless, too.

She released him, standing up and turning away. Don's skin tingled where her hands had touched him. Beverly stalked out of the room without another word.

_Aw shell, _thought Don. _What was that all about?_

He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, listening to her moving around upstairs. He was painfully aware of her footsteps. He wasn't afraid, exactly. Not even nervous. His skin felt hypersensitive, as if he could _feel_ her, even when she wasn't in the room.

He listened to her footsteps coming back down the stairs. He couldn't quite meet her blue eyes. She crossed the room and stood, watching him for a long moment, as if sizing him up. Donatello shifted under her gaze.

"What?"

"I'm just wondering if you're going to let me change that bandage, or if I'm going to have to sit on you and hold you down to do it?" she said seriously.

Don let out a startled laugh. "Well, when you put it _that_ way, I guess I'll have to let you," he said.

Beverly grinned. "Good. Sitting in your lap might get awkward," she teased.

Don felt a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

_Actually,_ he thought _I might kind of like it. _

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," said Beverly softly, kneeling beside the couch. She grinned up at him.

"I'm not embarrassed," protested Don.

"You're blushing," she pointed out with a grin.

The shy turtle squirmed "Are you going to change that bandage or not?" he asked finally.

Beverly laughed. "Only if you think you can handle having a _girl _touch you," she teased.

"Let me know if one shows up," Donatello shot back.

She gave him a dirty look and set to work on the bandages. Don smirked but the grin disappeared from his face in a hurry when she slapped a salve-covered gauze square into place. He gasped, jerking away from her.

"Hey!" he protested.

"Well, next time play nice," she said sweetly, glancing up at him.

Donatello stared, then grinned ruefully. "Sorry," he said.

She looked up again, pausing for a moment as she met his eyes. When she applied the next gauze patch, her hands were gentle.

Donatello relaxed, letting her wrap his leg. He flexed his ankle.

"How's that?" she asked, tucking the end of the wrap in neatly.

"Better," he admitted. "I could almost run on it."

"Almost," she said dryly, shaking her head. "I think it might be a while before you're ready for a rematch with the hare."

"That was a tortoise, not a turtle," said Don with a grin. "And who just said 'play nice'?"

Beverly grinned. "Sorry. I never could resist a pun," she said. She got up, gathering the supplies and sorting them back into the first-aid kit. Don leaned back against the couch, stretching his leg out in front of him. He grimaced as his thigh threatened to cramp.

"What's wrong?" Beverly was watching his face, concerned.

"Nothing, really. I'm just stiff from sitting so much," he admitted. "My muscles are beginning to feel tight, that's all. I need to move around."

"I'll do you one better. Let me put this stuff away and I'll massage that leg," said Beverly.

Donatello glanced at her. He met her eyes and blushed again. "That's ok," he said hastily. "Really. I'll just walk around a bit, I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Donatello, relax," said Beverly. "Geez, you act as if I'm going to take advantage of you. It's just a massage." She finished gathering up the supplies and set them on the low table next to the couch. "This would be easier upstairs on the bed," she said, eying him critically. "The couch is too narrow really."

"Beverly, really, you don't have to do this," protested Donatello.

"I'm a _nurse_, Don. Helping people is what I do. Now, are you going to walk upstairs, or do I have to carry you?"

Donatello saw her determined look and the way her hands rested on her hips, and sighed. "Ok, ok," he said, getting to his feet. "Lead the way."

Beverly shook her head. "After you," she said.

Don grinned, moving toward the stairs. "Are you afraid I'll run away again?" he asked.

"No. I just don't want you falling down the steps," she said. "My homeowners insurance might not cover you."

"I'll try not to fall, then," said Don.

Beverly's laugh made him smile. He made his way carefully up the stairs. About half-way up, a wave of dizziness came over him, and he swayed slightly. A firm hand on his shell steadied him. Don glanced over his shoulder at the woman. She smiled.

"See. There's a method to my madness," she said.

"You just have a thing for turtle shells," Don shot back.

Beverly guffawed. "Oh sure, that's it," she said, shaking her head. "I always fall for tall, green and handsome."

Don grinned, in spite of the slight disappointment that tugged in his chest.

_What's gotten into me? It's not as if I _like_ her. Or expect her to like me… She's a human and I'm a turtle. But Austin and Ann don't seem to have a problem with Mike and Raph being turtles. Maybe that's it. I just miss my sisters, miss my family. Once I get home, I'll feel normal again._

At the top of the stairs, he let Beverly pass him. She led him to the bedroom. He hesitated. "Beverly, I don't feel right, kicking you out of your bed. Maybe I could use the guest room?" he suggested.

"Oh, it's ok, Donatello," she replied with a smile. "Come on." She nudged his arm and Don walked into the room with a sigh.

_Strawberries…_ Reluctantly, he sat on the side of the bed.

"Go ahead and lie down on your… front," Beverly instructed.

Don smiled. "It's called a plastron," he said.

"What?"

"The front of my shell. It's called a plastron. The back is the carapace," he told her.

"Ok, lie down on your plastron," she said with a smile.

Donatello hesitated for only an instant before stretching out on the bed.

Beverly knelt beside him. "Comfortable?" she asked.

Don squirmed a little. "I… guess so," he said.

The woman smiled. "Don't worry. You will be," she said. She laid her hands gently on his shoulders. Donatello fought unsuccessfully to repress a shiver.

Beverly's hands moved slowly at first, kneading the sore muscles in his shoulders. As he began to relax, she rubbed more firmly, working out the deeper knots. Before long, Donatello was boneless and half-asleep under her ministrations.

"Oh, man," he whispered. "That is _so_ good."

"Massage therapy was one of the classes I took," she explained.

"Mmm," Don murmured.

_I could get used to this._


	18. Chapter 18 Benjamin

**A/N: Sorry, boys. But this, too, will turn out for the best.

* * *

**_Chapter 18 -Benjamin-  
~~~_

Sheathing his sword, Leonardo edged forward, keeping to one side of the entrance, so that anyone inside wouldn't be able to see his approach. Until he drew closer, there was no way to tell if Donatello was the one in the cave. Leo was cautious. Raphael held back, his sai at the ready, watching through narrowed amber eyes. If anyone attacked his brother, his sai would find its mark.

Leonardo drew closer, moving as silent as a shadow. The groan was louder now. Leo's heart sank. That was definitely _not _Don. He peered into the darkness.

A young man lay just inside the opening, hidden in the shadow. His eyes were closed. His face was pale, and his clothes looked ragged, torn, as if he'd been running through the brush. One leg was stained dark just above the knee. Leonardo's face wrinkled at the distinct smell of dried blood.

The blue-banded turtle had seen enough. He backed slowly away and circled around to where his brother was standing. Gesturing to Raphael, Leo indicated they should retreat. Neither spoke until they were well out of ear-shot.

"It looks like he's hurt," said Leo. "I didn't see any weapons."

"Mebbe he knows somet'in about Don," said Raph.

"Or he could just be a hiker who got lost out here," returned Leo. "Either way, we can't just leave him there. We've got to help him."

"You can't let him see you," said Austin firmly. "April and I will go." She held up her hand as Leo started to protest. "You said yourself he's injured and unarmed. We can handle it, Leonardo."

"All right," said Leo reluctantly. "Raph and I will stay nearby, in case he gives you any trouble."

"We'll get him back to the road and call for help," said Austin. "You game, April?"

"Sounds good to me," said the red-head. "Leo, you'd better take our weapons. We don't want to scare him to death. It'd probably be best if it looks like we're just a couple of hikers ourselves."

"Good idea," said Leonardo. April handed over her sword easily. Austin gave up her han-bo more reluctantly.

"All right. We'll get him to the road and call for help, then meet you back at the Battle Shell," said Austin.

"Good. Den we'll check out dis barn Mikey was in yesterday," said Raphael.

"Just be careful of that dog!" warned April. "It did some pretty serious damage to Mike's leg."

"Maybe Mikey'd better stay with us," suggested Austin. "He can't run if that dog comes after you."

"That's actually not a bad idea," said Leo, considering. "Mike can shadow you back to the road with this guy, then, after you call for someone to pick him up, you can get Mike with the Battle Shell. Once we know you've got this guy handled, Raph and I will head toward the barn."

Austin nodded. She glanced at April. "Ready to go?"

"Sure am."

The two girls moved off toward the cave where Leo and Raph had found the young man. Raph went back to explain the plan to Michelangelo, while Leonardo shadowed the girls, staying out of sight, but close enough to intervene in case they had any trouble.

Austin approached the cave first, ducking to fit into the shallow entrance. Leo winced as the young man cried out, his voice high with fear.

"No! Leave me alone! Get away!"

"Hey! Are you ok? We're here to help you." Austin's calm, firm tone seemed to sooth the boy. Leonardo saw him sit up, his eyes wide and stark in his pale, drawn face.

"You… you're not… that guy… He's crazy. He shot me." The boy grimaced. Austin caught his arm, pulling him up into a sitting position. April knelt at his other side, offering him water from the bottle she carried.

"What guy?" asked April. She waited patiently while the young man took a long drink. Finally she took the bottle away. "Take it easy. If you drink too much, you'll be sick."

He sat back, gasping for air. "He… he said I was trespassing," he managed. "He chased me… he's crazy. I got away, but he shot me. I hid here…" his eyes were wild. "You've got to get me out of here… please…" He reached out, clutching at April's sleeve.

"Take it easy now," said Austin. "What's your name?"

"Ben… Benjamin. Benjamin Willis," he stammered, turning to look at her with wide blue eyes.

"I'm Austin Hamato," she told him. "My friend is April. We were just hiking and we saw this cave. Don't worry, we'll get you out of here."

"I… I don't know if I can walk. You've got to get away from here," said the boy, staring at them. "If he comes back…"

"Don't worry. We can take care of ourselves," April assured him. The boy shuddered, closing his eyes.

"You don't understand. You don't know what he's _like_," he whispered. "He's _crazy_."

"Then we'd better get you out of here before he shows up again," said Austin. "April, do you have cell service? You can call 911. We'll start moving toward the road." She spoke as if she'd just thought of the plan, though they'd discussed it ahead of time.

April allowed the smallest of smiles to pass over her face before nodding seriously. "Yeah, I can do that. I think you're right, we should get moving. I don't want to run into this guy out here."

"I can't… I can't walk," whimpered Benjamin.

Austin shook her head. "April and I will help you," she told him firmly. "You're going to have to try, Benjamin."

"O… ok," he said. "Anything to get out of here."

April stood up, walking away a few paces to place the call. She came back, shooting Austin a grim smile. "They want us to wait here for them."

Austin was already shaking her head. _We can't risk it, medical and police crews storming about in the woods. Not with Mikey out here, and Leo and Raph not far away. It's too risky._

"No," she said aloud. "If this guy's as dangerous as Benjamin says he is, we should start moving. Do you think you can handle it, Benjamin?"

His blue eyes snapped open and he met her gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do it. I can walk," he said, a note of determination creeping into his tone.

"Good." Austin smiled. She nodded to April. The girls gripped the young man's arms, lifting him to his feet. Austin and April each took a side, slinging his arms over their shoulders. Supporting him, they began making their way back toward the main road.

It was soon obvious that Benjamin couldn't put any weight on his injured leg, but between the two girls, he managed to hobble along at a decent pace. They were nearly to the edge of the trees when flashing lights announced the arrival of help and authority. Austin glanced over her shoulder, just catching a glimpse of orange among the trees as Michelangelo disappeared deeper into the brush to wait for the rescuers to leave.

She sighed with relief, meeting April's eyes briefly. April's eyebrows went up questioningly. _Is he ok?_

Austin gave her a quick nod. _He's fine._

The two girls carried the young man forward. "Hey," called April. "Hey, over here!"

Soon, a burly man in a fireman's coat came striding through the woods.

"Are you alright?" he boomed. Benjamin trembled slightly as the man approached.

"It's ok," said Austin, reaching up to give his hand a squeeze. "He's here to help."

"I… I know," said Benjamin. "Thanks. Thank you both. You saved my life."

"We're just doing what anyone would do," said April. The girls gratefully released their burden to the fireman. He gently helped Benjamin sit down.

"You shouldn't be moving around, Son," he said gruffly. "Wait for the ambulance guys to get here. They'll put you on a back board so we can carry you out of here."

"I can walk," said Benjamin stubbornly.

"You shouldn't be walking on that leg," Austin said firmly. "Benjamin, these guys know what they're doing. They're here to help you. Let them do their jobs."

"But what if Jack shows up?" asked Benjamin fearfully. "He's _nuts_. And he has a gun."

"Wait a minute," said the fireman. "Who's this Jack?"

"He shot me. Three days ago," said Benjamin. Tears slid down the boy's cheeks. "He said I was trespassing and then he shot me. He's crazy."

The fireman's eyes narrowed. "Jack, huh? That wouldn't be Jack Koban? He owns a little cabin not far from here. I grew up with Jack and his sister, Beverly. Can you describe the man who shot you, Son?"

"Yeah. He has blue eyes," said the boy. "And dark brown hair, short, like a military cut. And he's _nuts._"

"That sounds like Jack all right," said the man, shaking his head. "Son, you're going to have to tell your story to the sheriff. It's time Jack got sent away for good. He's been a menace for years."

"I'm not telling anybody _anything,_" said Benjamin, sounding scared. "I just want to go home!"

"Now, Benjamin," said the man.

"Benjamin, it'll be all right," said April. "You need to tell the police what he did. You can't just let him get away with it."

Benjamin reached up, clutching at April's hand. "I can't," he whimpered. "He'll kill me."

"He can't touch you now," said Austin, taking the boy's other hand in her own. "Trust me."

"O… O… Ok," Benjamin managed.

Three men came through the trees wearing white shirts and carrying what could almost have passed for a surf-board if not for the straps hanging from it at intervals. One of them laid the board on the ground next to Benjamin while another came and knelt near his head.

"Hi there, Son. My name's Joe. My buddies and I are going to help you, ok?" Benjamin relaxed visibly at the sound of the man's soothing voice. He released the girls' hands and they both stood up, backing up to give the medics room. The tall fireman came to stand next to Austin.

"Ladies, you may have saved this young man's life," he said. "Can you tell me exactly what happened out here?"

"We were hiking," answered April readily, "And we heard a sound. When we investigated, we found Benjamin lying in a small cave, about three quarters of a mile that way." She pointed, indicating the way they'd come from.

"So we called you, picked him up and carried him out," finished Austin. "We didn't want to move him, but he was terrified of this Jack guy."

The fireman sighed. "Jack Koban is bad news," he said. "In fact, I'd advise you ladies to move on out of the area. It's not safe for strangers to wander through these woods."

"We'll do that, Sir," said April. "Thanks. We'll be heading back to our vehicle now."

"Would you like an escort?" The man offered.

"No!" Austin shook her head. She smiled to soften her tone. "No, thank you, Sir. We can handle ourselves."

The man's eyebrows rose. "Ok," he said. "Suit yourselves. You do have a cell-phone in case you run into any… trouble, right?"

"Yes, Sir," said April with a smile. "Thanks so much."

"Thank _you,_" said the fireman. "Thanks to you ladies, this story has a happy ending." He shook his head. "I hate finding bodies out here. I'm glad to be taking him back to his parents."

"We're glad of that, too," said April. "Well, we'd better be going. Thank you again, Sir."

"Wait, I didn't catch your names," called the fireman after their retreating backs. The girls quickened their pace, using the skills they'd learned from the turtles to disappear into the trees without a trace.

The fireman stood, shaking his head. "Oh, man. What'm I going to put in my report?"


	19. Chapter 19 Learning

_Chapter 19 -Learning-  
~~~_

Beverly smiled, kneading Donatello's shoulders.

_He's so muscular,_ she thought. _There's hardly an ounce of fat on him. He's really amazing._ When he was totally relaxed under her hands, she stood up, moving to the end of the bed. Gently, tentatively, she touched his ankle above the bandage. He twitched, glancing nervously over his shoulder to see what she was doing.

"Relax," she said gently.

Don lay down again, but he shifted uneasily under her hands.

"Donatello, do you want me to stop?" she asked. She stopped moving and sat for a moment, her hands still on his leg.

"No, it's ok," came the muffled reply. "I just… I'm not used to being touched like this, I guess."

She moved against his calf and felt him shiver.

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable," she said. "If you want me to stop, just say so, ok?"

"Ok," he answered. He lay still though, and didn't protest when she started rubbing her hands gently against the sides of his calf, just above his ankle. She started slowly, as she'd done with his shoulders. When she felt him relax, she started kneading a little harder, working to soothe the tension she felt vibrating through his leg.

Soon the tension under her fingers faded and he lay boneless, unresisting, until she touched his knee. He twitched, jerking slightly.

"Are you ok?" she asked, pausing for a moment.

Don wriggled. "Sorry," he said a bit sheepishly. "I guess I'm a little ticklish."

Beverly smiled. She was sorely tempted to purposely tickle him, but she refrained. He was showing such trust, she didn't want to spoil it by teasing him.

"That's ok," she said softly. She laid both hands against either side of his knee, deliberately pressing a little harder against his skin. "Is that better?"

"Yeah," he said.

Bev smiled, and began rubbing, using her palms and long, deliberate strokes. She stopped about half-way up his thigh and started down again. Before long she heard his breathing even out. She started on the other leg, leaning over to reach. She carefully avoided aggravating his injured ankle. When her hand brushed his heel, she frowned. The muscles of his foot felt hard and tense.

She gathered his two-toed foot carefully into her hands and began rubbing her thumbs firmly along the bottom. He gasped, twitching in her grasp and turned, half sitting up.

"What're you doing?" he asked. Beverly looked up. Don was blushing. His leg moved as if he'd pull away from her, but he grimaced and stopped before she lost her grip.

_That ankle must still be paining him,_ she thought. She stopped rubbing his foot but held it firmly in her hands.

"You're so tense," she scolded. "Relax, Donatello."

He squirmed and she let go of his foot. He pulled his knees up nearly to his chest. Beverly laughed then. She couldn't help it. He shot her a startled look.

"I'm sorry, Donatello," she said gently. "It's just that you're so… shy."

"I'm not," he said, sounding offended.

"Oh, no? Then why are you so bothered by a little foot-rub?" she teased.

His face turned a darker shade of red. Beverly relented. "It's ok," she said softly. "I'm just trying to help. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Don glanced up at her as if he weren't quite sure if she were teasing him or not.

Bev smiled. "Why don't you get some rest?" she asked.

"I'm not tired," he said. He moved to the edge of the bed and lowered his feet to the floor, flexing his less-injured ankle with a wince. "My leg does feel better, thanks. What time is it, anyway?"

"Around four, I guess," she said, stretching.

"Beverly, I don't suppose… I mean, if it's not too much trouble…" Donatello trailed off.

"What?"

"Well, I thought... it would help to go for a walk," he said. "I mean, if you don't mind…"

_But you're still not feeling well. What are you up to, Donatello? Is this just another bid for freedom? But I'm not keeping you against your will… _

"I'm tired of being cooped up all the time," he said softly. "I need to test my strength. I thought, you know, a short walk in the woods… but I'm..." he glanced at her. "I'm not quite up to going by myself." He looked away, as if the admission were difficult for him.

_You want me to go with you? _"Sure, why not?" said Beverly. She held out her hand to him. After a moment's hesitation, he let her help him up. "There's a nice little path that meanders down through the woods out back," she said with a smile.

"Thanks, Beverly," he said, a genuine smile lighting his features.

"No problem. Hey, you can call me 'Bev'."

"Ok. And you can call me 'Don'. My brothers do," he said, glancing at her shyly.

Ten minutes later, they were strolling down a narrow path. Don's brown eyes seemed to take in everything at once, as if he were drinking in their surroundings like water in a desert.

"Everything's so _green_," he breathed.

Beverly smiled and refrained from pointing out the obvious joke.

"What's it like, living in the city?" she asked.

"Not like this," said Don with a smile. "The only trees are in Central Park. It's nice, though. In the… I mean, where we live, it's quiet. Peaceful. Up… on the streets, there's noise and lights and constant activity."

"I don't know if I could get used to that," mused Beverly. "I don't like all the chaos. I've lived out here all my life." She gestured to the canopy above them, the tree trunks stretching to bury their gnarled roots in the earth at their feet. "I love it here."

"It's beautiful," remarked Don.

"Yeah."

They walked for a few minutes in silence.

"I'd like to show you, some day," Don said suddenly.

"Show me what?" She glanced at him. He met her eyes with a smile.

"The city. The lights… the park. There's a fountain we visit sometimes. It's secluded, almost no one else knows about it. In the moonlight, with the water shining and the trees all around… it's beautiful."

"It sounds like it," said Bev softly. "I used to have a book of fairy tales with a picture of a fountain like that. The princess waited every day by the fountain. She'd just sit by the fountain and sing, waiting for her prince to come along."

"Did he?"

"Did he what?"

"Did he ever show up?"

Beverly laughed. "You know, I can't remember now. I just remember the picture of the fountain. When my mom would read the story, I would sit there thinking what an idiot the princess was to sit there waiting. She should've gone out and looked for Prince Charming."

"Maybe he was waiting for her to rescue _him_," said Donatello lightly.

Beverly glanced at him with a smile. "Maybe."

Don didn't seem to hear her. He stopped, staring at something a few yards off the path.

"What is it?" she asked, touching his arm.

He glanced at her.

"Oh, nothing. I just… when Jack jumped me," Beverly winced, but Donatello's voice was steady. "I dropped my bo staff. There's a little tree over there that would be perfect to replace it."

"Oh, is that all? Well, do you want it? I've got my knife. It's small, but sharp. We could cut it without too much trouble."

"Really?" Donatello looked at her, his brown eyes widening. "Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all," she said with a smile. "You mean that little sapling? It's an oak, but look, there are several larger oaks right here, too. It'd just get crowded out. We might as well put it to good use."

"Beverly, you're the _best_," breathed Donatello.

Bev grinned. She knelt, cutting the little tree close to the ground.

"Here, let me do that," said Don, kneeling.

"Ok," she said, letting him take the knife.

His hands shook with a slight tremor as he took the blade in his palm but he gripped the handle with a determined look and began carefully cutting the tree at the base. Soon he'd chipped through, and the sapling fell.

Donatello picked it up, measuring it with his eye. He chose a spot, and began cutting it neatly in half.

"I can make a second staff," he said happily. "See, it's thick enough for most of the length and it's almost perfectly straight."

"That's great," said Beverly smiling. She watched him trim the bark and small branches from the sapling with the speed and grace of expertise. In a short time, Don held the first staff in his hands. He balanced it on his fingers, and gave it an experimental spin.

Beverly's eyes widened. "Wow," she said. "Grandfather taught Jack and I a little hand-to-hand when we were kids, but I've never seen anyone handle a staff the way you do. Could you teach me to do that?"

Donatello grinned. "You mean without knocking yourself out with the bo? It takes practice."

"I'd like to," she said, surprised at the determination that rose up in her. "If you'd show me, I promise to practice."

Donatello looked at her for a long moment, considering. "All right, if you want," he said finally. "I could teach you a few things. Some self-defense and basic katas…"

"What are katas?" she asked.

"Forms… stances," he explained. "They're the beginning of martial arts."

"Ok."

Don set the first staff aside and began stripping the bark from the remaining length of wood.

"Beverly, if you're serious about learning, I'll be glad to teach you what I can, but I should warn you, learning martial arts is hard work," he said. "You'll have to let me know how far you want to go."

"I understand," said Beverly. "I'm not afraid of a little hard work."

Don grinned. "Try a _lot_ of hard work," he said. "I had blisters on my hands _forever_ until Sensei wrapped my bo with silk to pad it. I don't really need it now, but I still keep it wrapped."

"Why?"

"For better grip," he said simply. "If I'm sweating or it's raining or… whatever, my bo gets slippery. The wrap doesn't."

"That makes sense," she said.

He finished trimming off the last of the bark and ran his hands over the wood, checking it for imperfections. Apparently satisfied, he held it out to her.

"Here, try holding it," he said.

Beverly took the staff in her hands, instinctively holding it near the center, feeling the natural balance as it rested in her palms.

"Wow, not bad," said Donatello, sounding surprised. "You have a good natural grip."

Beverly smiled. She moved the staff experimentally, feeling how the weight shifted. She gave it a careful spin.

Don winced. "Ok, well, you're doing great, but don't move your hands like that," he said. "You need to keep your palms on it like this…" He took her wrist, showing her. "If you don't grip the staff properly, you can get really hurt when you strike an opponent or they strike you."

"Ok." Beverly's brow furrowed in concentration. She was suddenly very aware of the warmth of his hand against her wrist. She lost her focus for a moment and the staff tilted, catching her solidly on the side of the head.

"Oh! Ouch," she yelped, nearly dropping the wood.

"Bev! Are you ok? Oh, man, I'm sorry," said Donatello, sounding slightly panicked.

"No, Don, it wasn't your fault. It's ok," she said quickly, rubbing her throbbing temple. "I guess you're right, it's going to take some practice."

"Yeah. Maybe we should start with the basics," said Don with a smile.

"Sounds good to me. This stick bites back," said Beverly.

Donatello grimaced. "Don't call it a 'stick'," he scolded. "It's a bo staff. The shorter version is a han bo."

"Ok, I'll try to remember that," said Beverly. "Bo staff and han bo," she repeated carefully, trying out the unfamiliar words.

"You got it." Don smiled.

"Well, it's easier to say than it is to use," said Bev ruefully.

"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it in no time," said Don.

"If you say so." She rubbed her temple where the solid wood had struck.

"Are you ok?" He peered at her, concerned.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just a little clumsy, that's all."

"Here, let me look." He leaned closer, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Beverly stood, frozen to the spot. Warmth seemed to be spreading through her body from the light touch on her shoulder. Don peered at her with those impossibly soft brown eyes and reached to lift her hair, his fingers brushing her forehead. She had to close her eyes for a moment. She felt light-headed and a slight tremor shook her when his breath brushed her cheek.

"It doesn't look too bad," he said, "But you're going to have a bruise. Bev, are you sure you're ok?"

She opened her eyes to find him gazing at her with concern.

"I'm fine," she said, giving herself a mental shake. _What has gotten into me?_

His brow creased with concern. "Maybe we should head back."

He let his hand drop away from her shoulder_. _Beverly almost wanted to reach out and take his hand into hers, to feel those muscular fingers against her palm… She shook her head, smiling a little at her own foolishness.

"Ok," she said and led the way back toward the house.


	20. Chapter 20 Of Bos and Turtles

**A/N: Visit my profile and follow the link for an illustration of this chap, titled "Teach Me".**_

* * *

_

_Chapter 20 -Of Bos and Turtles-  
~~~_

Donatello circled slowly, mindful to protect his injured ankle. He held his bo in a defensive posture. His opponent's staff swung out. He blocked and parried, jerking the staff from the other's hand neatly.

"Not bad," he said, smiling.

Bev scowled with frustration. "You took it away from me," she said. "I couldn't hold on."

"Yep. Let me show you how I did it and next time you'll be ready for a trick like that."

Don picked up the bo at his feet and held it out to her. She jerked away, startled, before taking it from his hand.

Don looked at her, surprised. "What was that about?" he asked.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Grandfather was full of mean little tricks."

His eye-ridges rose. "You thought I'd hit you or something?"

"Or something." She smiled ruefully. "Sorry."

"I'd never hit you, Beverly," he said quietly.

Bev's blue eyes met his. Don was startled to see them brimming with tears.

"Because I'm a girl?" she asked, trying to make light.

"No," Don replied seriously. "Because it would be dishonorable to attack an unarmed, unprepared opponent. It would be taking advantage of you. And we're just sparring here."

"Grandfather would've said it was preparing us for life," said Beverly softly.

Donatello shook his head. "Our Sensei taught us honor. It's important to recognize that not all our opponents will feel the same way, but that doesn't excuse us," he said.

"So, this… sensei. That's a teacher, isn't it?" asked Bev, leaning on her staff. "Who is he? I mean, if you don't mind my asking."

"He's our father," said Don. He was embarrassed to find tears stinging his own eyes. He looked away, blinking to hold them back.

"You miss them, huh?"

"Of course," he said, forcing a smile. "Not that this hasn't been fun."

She snorted. "Meeting Jack was fun?"

"No. Spending time with you," he said seriously.

She looked at him so intently he looked away, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. In a few steps, Beverly closed the gap between them.

"Donatello," she said, "I… I am sorry for what Jack did to you, but… I'm not sorry I got to meet you."

Don glanced at her and his breath caught in his throat. He felt as if he was drowning in a pair of blue eyes. Standing close, her scent wafted to him. He swallowed hard.

"Me, either," he finally managed. "So… do you want to…" He swallowed hard. "Do you want to learn that move?"

Beverly smiled. "Yeah," she said.

They spent the rest of the afternoon practicing some basic katas and maneuvers. By the time darkness began to encroach, Beverly had mastered a simple spin and was able to hold on to her bo against Don's disarming attack, lifting the end to let his staff slide off the end of her own.

Don tried once more, giving the end of his bo a little twist. Beverly turned, allowing his force to slide across the staff's surface and returned with a strike of her own. It clacked against his shell, startling him, but there hadn't been any real intention behind her strike. Still, Bev dropped her bo, startled.

"Oh! Are you ok?" she hurried to him, her eyes wide with concern.

"I'm fine." He grinned. "There are advantages to being a terrapin."

She stared, then giggled. "I'm sorry. I didn't even do that on purpose."

He nodded in approval. "It was instinctive. You're doing great."

"Thanks." She glanced at him shyly. "You're a good teacher, Donatello."

"I had a great teacher myself," he said with a smile.

"I'd like to meet him," said Beverly wistfully. Don shot her a startled glance. She met his gaze and sighed. "I know," she said. "You don't trust me to meet your family. It's ok, Don."

"No," he said slowly. "You know, I… I think I'd like you to meet them, too."

"Really?" Beverly smiled.

Don felt his breath catch and his heart seemed to jump. "Yeah," he said. "I'd really like that."

"Me, too. Are you ready to head inside? We should think about eating soon."

"That'd be great. I'm not much of a cook, but I can help," said Don.

"Why don't you go ahead and get in the shower," suggested Beverly. "I'll get the food started."

"Are you sure?" Don asked.

"Yep."

Don hurried through his shower and headed downstairs. The wave of odors reached him before he got to the kitchen. He walked in, breathing deep in appreciation.

"Something smells amazing," he remarked.

Beverly smiled. "I made clam chowder and there's chicken I put in marinade last night, I thought we could grill that up with some vegetables from the garden."

"Oh, that sounds _good_," said Don with a smile. "How can I help?"

"Well, if you want to set the table," she said, "The dishes are in the cupboard there and the silverware is over here."

"No problem." Don got out two plates and sets of silverware, laying them out on the table.

Beverly grinned. "Look's like you've done this before," she said.

"Not often," Don admitted. "We order out a lot."

"Well, you're all guys, right? So I imagine you're not into gourmet meals," said Beverly.

"Actually Mike's an amazing cook," said Don. "And Austin, his wife, has breakfast for us every morning when we come home from patrol."

"Your brother is married?" Bev glanced at him.

Don chuckled. "Yep. And Raph has a girlfriend, Ann."

"And these girls are…" Beverly hesitated. "human?"

"Yes," said Donatello quietly.

Bev cocked her head to one side, considering him. Don waited, suddenly tense.

"If your brothers are anything like you, they are lucky girls," she said finally. She turned back to the stove, stirring the pot.

Donatello let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding.

"My brothers are the lucky ones," he said lightly. "It's not as if we have a lot of opportunities to meet new people. It's a minor miracle that they met Austin and Ann, let alone fell in love."

"I don't know," said Beverly without turning around. "I think love has a way of finding a way, you know? You have to be open to the possibilities."

Donatello fidgeted with a fork, straightening it.

"How about you?" he asked. "Has it ever… found you?"

Beverly laughed. "Once," she admitted. "In high school. We were smitten…"

Don felt an unexpected sharp twist in his chest.

"What happened?" he asked, working to keep his voice steady.

"We were kids," said Bev with a shrug. "Too young to know what we wanted. We were playing at love. Eventually, we both went off to college. We tried to keep up a long-distance relationship for a while, but he found someone else."

"He was an idiot," said Don softly.

Bev turned, her eyebrows rising and Don felt a faint blush creeping up his cheeks, but he met her gaze steadily.

"How about you?" she asked. "Has there been anyone special?" She turned off the burner and covered the pan.

"Well," Don hedged. "Kind of. I had a… crush, when I was a teenager. She married someone else. I got over it."

_Eventually_.

"She missed out," said Bev calmly.

Don shivered in the warm room. "Um, did you want help grilling that chicken?" he asked.

"Well, do you think you could guard the grill for five minutes if I grab a shower?" she asked. "All you have to do is watch to see it doesn't burn and turn the meat over. Very simple."

"I… can try," said Don cautiously. "I hope you have a back-up dinner plan though. I'm not much of a cook."

"You don't have to be a cook to grill," said Beverly with a smile.

She led him out a side door to a stone patio. She uncovered a small propane grill and turned on the gas, lighting it efficiently. Laying some chopped zucchini, tomatoes and yellow squash out on a piece of foil, she set them back on the grate before laying two plump chicken breasts down. The sizzling meat released a mouth-watering aroma almost immediately.

"See? It's simple," said Beverly, handing Don a pair of tongs. "Just watch the meat. Turn it in about three minutes, ok?"

"I guess I can do that," said Don a bit nervously.

"You'll do fine," Beverly assured him, patting his shoulder.

Don smiled almost involuntarily. Her touch sent thrills jolting down his arm as if he'd touched a light socket.

"Ok," he said. "But don't say I didn't warn you if you come back to cinders."

Beverly just smiled. "I'll be right back," she said. She disappeared inside.

Donatello poked the chicken cautiously with the tongs, trying hard, but without much success, not to picture Beverly in the shower. After three minutes exactly, he turned the chicken, noticing with surprise and satisfaction that the slightly charred stripes on the meat looked like those he'd seen on the Food Network Mikey loved to watch.

He heard the door open and turned in time to see Beverly, framed in the doorway. She'd changed into a fresh blouse with a pattern of blue forget-me-nots that matched her eyes perfectly and a pair of cut-off jeans-shorts, which showed off her long, lithe legs to good advantage. Her damp hair curled enticingly around her face and her skin seemed to glow in the evening light.

It wasn't until she crossed the patio and looked at him questioningly that he realized he was staring.

"What?" she asked.

Don closed his mouth with an effort. "Um… I think the chicken's done," he said.

"Great," said Bev with a smile. She took the tongs from him, picked the chicken up expertly and laid it on a platter. Then she took the corners of the foil and lifted the whole thing onto the plate next to the chicken.

"Let's eat," she said, giving Don another heart-stopping smile.

Don swallowed hard. "Ok."

They sat down to the table and set about dealing with the delicious meal. Before long, both were contentedly full. Don sat back in his chair.

"That was amazing, Beverly," he said.

"You're the cook," she said with an impish grin.

"No way. You made that clam chowder. I'll have to get the recipe from you. I wonder if Mikey could make that at home."

"It's really simple," she told him, standing and gathering the plates. "I'll write it down for you."

"That would be great." He stood up, moving to clear the table. Beverly glanced at him, surprised, but didn't comment. "You did most of the cooking," he told her. "I'll do the dishes."

"Oh, that's ok," she said, but Don shook his head.

"No, really. I don't mind," he said with a shy smile.

"At least let me help," she said. "You wash, I'll rinse, ok?"

"Sounds good."

They worked in companionable silence, washing up the few dishes. Beverly dried them and put them away.

"Thanks, Don," she said as she stacked the last plate in the cupboard.

"No problem," he answered easily.

_I could get used to this, if it weren't for not having internet access,_ he thought. _It's so peaceful here._ He gave himself a mental shake. _I can't get too comfortable, can't let my guard down. Beverly's… well, she's amazing, but Jack's still out there and he's still insane. I'm putting us both in danger by staying here. I'm going to have to leave as soon as I feel well enough. I just wish…_

Donatello glanced at Beverly. She met his eyes and smiled.

_Oh, shell. I wish a lot of things. But I have to face reality here. She's a beautiful. She deserves a Prince Charming to come along and sweep her off her feet, and me… I'm not even a frog. I've never ready any fairy-tales where the princess kisses a turtle._


	21. Chapter 21 Into the Spider's Web

**A/N: A bit of a nail biter in this chap, but Leo and Raph are a pretty good team and I think they could handle a simple recon mission without too much trouble, don't you?

* * *

**_Chapter 21 -Into the Spider's Web-  
~~~_

Leonardo moved through the trees almost silently. Raph kept up easily, his sai clenched in his fists, keeping a close eye out for any sight or sound of the animal that attacked his little brother. Leo stopped just ahead, crouching and holding up a hand to stop Raph. Raph knelt next to him, his amber gaze scanning the woods around them.

"This has got to be the place," whispered Leo, pointing.

Raph's eyes narrowed behind his red mask. The rustic little cabin sat back near the trees. The barn was nearer, standing solid and forbidding, silhouetted against the darkening sky.

"Let's go." Raph started forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Look." Leo pointed.

Raph swore. A dog… a _huge_ dog, was lying under the porch. They couldn't see from where they crouched whether it was awake, but it wasn't moving.

"Mike already checked," whispered Leo. "We know Don's not in the barn."

"What about da cabin?" Raph's hands tightened on his sai. He was itching to rush out and challenge the dog, to tear it apart for attacking his little brother.

"Maybe we should scout the barn first," said Leo. His dark eyes were still on the dog. "In case Mike missed something."

"Ya t'ink he would've?"

"It's possible," said Leo. "You interrupted him when you called, remember? We should at least check, Raph. I don't want to miss anything."

"Ok." _Let's jus' get movin',_ thought Raph. _The faster we get movin', da faster we can find Don._

The pair moved across the yard with hardly a rustle of the grass as they passed. The dog never noticed their presence.

"Da door's locked, Fearless," whispered Raph, pointing.

Leo nodded. "Didn't Mike say he went in through the back?" he answered. "Let's try that first."

It didn't take long to locate the loose board and slip into the barn. Raph had a harder time slipping through the opening with his slightly bulkier shell. In the seconds he was wedged in the space, he felt something tickle his face and reflexively slapped at it, panic rising at the thought of a spider landing on his skin.

His fingers touched something silky soft and light, like spiderweb. He grunted, jerking his way out of the tight opening. Leo shook his head, not quite smirking, and Raph scowled. He glanced back at the gap, expecting to see silken strands hanging. He looked closer. That wasn't spider web.

_It looks like…_

"Hey, Leo, lookit dis," he called.

"What is it?" Leonardo came close, examining the strands hanging from a sliver in the wood. "It looks like… hair?"

"Yeah. It's kinda red. Like Ape's, but lighter," said Raph.

"Someone's used this way before."

"Musta been a girl."

"Yeah, or a long-haired man."

Raph snorted. Leonardo glanced at him. "Casey has long hair," he remarked.

Raph shot him a scowl. "Yeah, but dis is curly," he pointed out, holding up some of the strands. "I can't imagine a guy wit' long, curly blond hair."

Raph could see by the way Leo's face twitched he was trying hard not to smile. "True," he admitted. "So it was probably a girl. And not long ago, or the hairs would've blown away."

"Dat doesn't help us find Don though," muttered Raphael, letting the hairs fall from his fingers onto the dusty floor. He moved silently across the barn.

A horse whickered, making him whirl and take a defensive crouch.

"Relax, Raph," said Leo, moving toward the stall. "Mike was right, he's pretty calm about seeing giant turtles," he remarked.

"Mebbe he's jus' a smart horse," said Raph.

Leonardo shook his head. He was kneeling in the next stall. "Raph, look," he whispered.

Raphael leaned over his brother's shoulder and scowled. "What's dat?"

"Looks like something was… tied here," said Leonardo, his voice tight. "Look, there're still strands of rope."

"Ya don't t'ink…"

"I don't know, Raph. But I do know Don's not here. We've got to find him."

"We will." Raph straightened. "Let's check da house."

"And face that dog?"

"I'll take care o' 'im."

"Raph…"

"Leo, dat dog bit Mikey."

"It was defending its territory."

"I'm defendin' my brother!"

"Not by killing an animal for doing what it's supposed to do!"

Raph growled, turning away. "Fine. I'll knock it out. Is dat ok wit' you, Fearless?"

"Raph… Do what you need to. I'm just saying, don't use excessive force, ok?"

"Whatever."

Raph stalked over to the gap in the barn boards and forced his shell through the narrow opening once more. He started across the yard, sticking to the deeper shadows. Leo was close behind. Raph caught a glimpse of steel flashing in the moonlight and knew his brother had drawn his weapons.

_Sure, don't hurt da poor dog. What're ya gonna do wit' yer katana, Leo? Pet it?_

He was nearly to the porch when the dog lifted its head, an uncertain growl sounding in its throat.

"Raph, keep it busy."

Raphael glanced at his brother, but his gaze quickly snapped back to the dog, which was no on its feet and moving toward him cautiously, growling.

"Hey, doggy. Nice doggy," said Raph, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Ya want anot'er bite o' turtle? Bring it on. I'll teach ya ta bite people…"

The dog lunged. Raph was sorely tempted to drive his sai into the animal's throat, to rip and tear as it had done to Mike's leg, but instead he brought the blunt handle of his sai down on its skull, dropping it at his feet.

"Raph!" Leo's voice rose slightly with alarm.

"'m ok, Leo. I jus' knocked 'im out," answered Raphael. _Don't worry. I didn't hurt da poor defenseless dog._

"Come on," said Leonardo, motioning. Raph joined his brother and together they circled the cabin, scouting. Around the back they found a window. Leo leaned closer, peering through the dusk. He recoiled, seeing the thin strand of wire across the pane of glass. He pointed and Raph nodded, scowling.

"_Booby trap_," he mouthed. They slowly backed away and kept moving around the building.

Leo stopped so suddenly Raph nearly ran into his brother's shell. He swore. Leonardo pointed. Raph followed his finger and swore again. The leaves had been disturbed, and he could see, just jutting out from under them, the edge of a rather nasty steel trap. A few more steps and it would have latched onto his leg. Raphael scowled.

_Dis guy's a proper nut,_ he thought. _Booby traps on da house, an' bear traps out back. He's expectin' an invasion or somet'in._

"Let's try around front," whispered Leo. "He'd have to have a safe way of getting in and out, right?"

"Ok," said Raph. He wasn't about to admit it to his brother, but fumbling around in the gathering dark, with traps about, was beginning to make him nervous.

They moved back to the front of the cabin. The dog hadn't stirred.

"You sure you didn't kill it?" asked Leo.

"I don't t'ink so, Fearless," answered Raph."Why dontcha go give it mouth ta mouth if yer so worried?"

Leonardo just shook his head. They heard the horse whicker in the barn. Raph pointed. The barn door was open.

"Da guy must be feedin' da horse," he hissed. "Now's our chance, Leo. Let's check da house."

"Agreed. Watch my back," said Leonardo. "I'll go in and check things out."

Raphael nodded reluctantly. He would've argued, but they didn't have much time. Wraithlike, Leo disappeared into the cabin.

He was gone less than five minutes. Raph didn't have time to get impatient before his brother reappeared at his side motioning toward the trees. The pair disappeared as silently as they'd come, before Jack Koban finished filling the horse's hay net.

***

Less than a mile off, Raph couldn't contain himself any longer. "So, didja find anyt'in?" he demanded.

"Nothing, Raph. No sign of Don anywhere. The place is like a militant's dream. He's got more guns than an armory," said Leo grimly. "And I think he's on some medications. I found a bunch of bottles with prescription labels."

"Oh great, he's jus' some nut. How come Don's trail leads here?" growled Raph.

"I don't know," said Leo with a sigh. "But there was no sign of Donny in the house or in the barn. We're just going to have to keep looking." He flipped open his shell-cel. "I'll call the girls and have them meet us. They should've had time to deal with that hiker by now."

Raph nodded silently.

***

"So, there was no sign of him anywhere?" April asked.

"Nothing, April," said Leonardo, starting the Battle Shell and easing down the road. "It's like he disappeared off the face of the earth."

"We'll find him, _ani_," said Austin, laying her hand on Leo's shell.

"Yeah, bro," chimed in Michelangelo. "I'm just glad you didn't run into that dog." He shivered.

Raph carefully avoided Leonardo's eyes. They hadn't had to discuss not telling Mike about the dog.

"I just can't stand the idea that he could be out there, somewhere, hurt or sick or…" Leonardo trailed off. He kept his eyes on the road to hide the moisture gathering in them.

"He's going to be _fine_, Leo," said April firmly. "Don's strong and smart. If there's a way, he'd find it, you know that. He's going to be ok."

"Ape's right," said Raphael. "Don's fine."

"I hope so," muttered the leader.

_Don't give up hope yet, Fearless,_ thought Raph. _If Donny's out here, we're gonna find him. Don't you worry 'bout dat. I ain't goin' home wit'out my bro. Dat's a promise._


	22. Chapter 22 Trouble

**A/N: To save myself answering the question in reviews: No, Gina won't show up in this book, except for the brief mention here. However, she may show up another time in another book...**

**Thanks for reading. :) As always, don't forget to read/review for my betas, raphfreak and 54 Viruses.**

_Chapter 22 -Trouble-  
~~~_

Jack Koban rose early, as he did most mornings. Today was different though. Today he was going hunting.

He picked his favorite rifle and a box of ammunition. He preferred the armor-piercing bullets over hollow points. Who knew how tough that shell was, after all. He tucked a small pistol into an under-arm holster and slid his hunting knife into the holder at his belt. Added to all this weaponry was a short, wide, double-bladed knife that slipped into a holster at the top of his boot and was easily concealed by his stained blue-jeans.

_That turtle's been snoopin' around here again. I saw the footprints in the yard this morning. Well, I'll teach him to mess with Jack Koban. _

He stepped out onto the porch, carrying only his rifle and a small sack of supplies. He didn't need much for an extended trip into the deeper woods. He traveled light and survived with the most basic necessities. It was his way. If a man couldn't live off the land, he wasn't a man, as far as Jack was concerned.

He whistled for Rufus, frowning when the dog seemed to move more slowly than usual, but not much bothered. The dog was getting older, after all. Maybe it was time to start thinking about getting a pup, training it up to take Rufus' place when the inevitable day came.

Saddling the horse took under ten minutes. Jack tucked his supplies into the saddle-bag, and slid the rifle into the holster built into the cantle for the purpose. He was ready. Without a backward glance, he rode off into the woods.

***

Beverly stood at the stove, cooking omelets while Don fixed the coffee and set the table.

_We're quite the team,_ she thought.

"So, Beverly," asked Don in that soft, smooth voice, "Don't you… have to work or anything?"

_Oh, Don. We were having such a nice morning. Why'd you have to spoil it? I so don't want to talk about this… _

She took a deep breath. "I'm on a leave of absence," she said, keeping her voice steady with an effort. "I work… worked, at the hospital in town."

"What happened?" asked Donatello.

Beverly took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Some drugs went missing while I was on duty," she said without turning around. "Since I was in charge, I take the blame."

"How did it happen?"

"I wish I knew." She sighed again. "It's a hospital, not Fort Knox. My boss hired a new girl a couple months ago. I suspect she was the culprit."

"Did you tell your boss?"

"_I _asked him to give her a chance," said Beverly. She finally turned to face Donatello.

_Might as well get it all out in the open._

"She's… Jack's daughter."

Don stared. "Jack's…"

"Yeah." Bev nodded. "My niece. Her mother had a fling with Jack when they were teenagers. Jack's nearly eight years older than I am. Gina, his daughter, is seventeen, older than Jack was when he fathered her. She left town about the time the drugs went missing."

"So if Jack's eight years older, that makes you…"

Beverly met his eyes. "I'm twenty-six. How old are you?"

"Twenty-three," said Don.

_Wow. I guess that makes me the older woman,_ she thought with a grin.

Beverly scooped the omelets out onto plates. "So, how about you? What do you do, Donatello, besides fight?"

"Well, my brothers and I spend a few hours a day training," he said slowly. "And I had a job, before I got sick."

"You had a job?" Beverly's eyebrows rose. "As what?"

"Tech support. People's computers break. They call a phone number, they get me."

"Seriously?" Beverly studied him. "You know that much about computers?"

"Yep."

"You're full of surprises, Donatello."

Beverly set the plates down on the table and poured a cup of coffee for him, tea for herself.

"This smells amazing," said Don.

They dispatched the eggs quickly, chatting about this and that. Don was just standing up to clear the table when he froze, staring out the kitchen window like a deer caught in the headlights. Beverly stood up and looked to see what had startled him. A car was pulling into the driveway.

"Oh, it's the sheriff, Andy Wilson. Donatello, hide…"

She turned, but Don was already half-way up the stairs, vanishing into the guest room. The doorbell rang insistently. Bev took a deep breath and went to answer it.

"Hi, Andy, what brings you out here?" she asked, stepping out onto the porch.

"Well, Beverly, I'm sorry to bother you so early in the morning… Mmm, is that coffee I smell?"

Beverly gave him a tight-lipped smile. She couldn't ignore the obvious hint without tipping Andy off that she was trying to hide something.

"I saw you coming up the drive and put on a pot," she said, improvising. "Why don't you come inside?"

"So, Bev, have you seen Jack recently?" asked Andy. His hazel eyes scanned the front room as she led him inside. Beverly moved ahead quickly to pick up the tell-tale plates from the table, setting them casually in the sink.

She fetched a coffee mug from the cupboard and poured a generous cup. Andy sank carefully down into the chair Donatello'd vacated only a few moments before. He sighed, wrapping his fingers around the steaming mug.

"Bev, it's about Jack," he said slowly.

"What about him? Andy, has their been… an accident or something? What's going on?"

"No, nothing like that," said Andy quickly. He sighed again, finally meeting Bev's eyes.

"Did you hear about that kid who went missing a while ago? Benjamin Willis?"

"Yes, they mentioned it on the news a couple nights ago. Why, has he been found?" Bev held her breath, waiting for the answer.

"Yes," Andy said. "He'll be ok, thanks to a couple of tourists. Young women. They happened to be walking through the woods and found him huddled up in a shallow cave about three miles from your brother's place. Beverly, he said Jack shot him."

"Shot… Oh, no." Beverly sat down. Her knees were suddenly too weak to hold her. She stared down at the table top, trying to gather her thoughts. She noticed idly that Donatello's coffee mug had left a faint brown ring on the table where Andy was sitting.

"Have you seen Jack?" asked Andy.

Beverly shook her head. "Not in a couple weeks," she told him. "I stopped out the other day to drop off supplies, but he wasn't there."

"He's still not there," said Andy. "I went out myself to bring him in. The barn was open and his horse and dog were both gone. One of my men stepped in a bear trap around back of the house. He needed twenty-two stitches to close up his leg again."

Beverly winced. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Beverly." Andy shook his head impatiently. "You've got to stop apologizing for that brother of yours. And you have to stop trying to shield him."

"What are you talking about?" she looked up, confused. Andy's hazel eyes burned into hers.

"I know someone else is here, Bev," he said softly. "You put _two_ plates in that sink just now. And you don't drink coffee, but there's a coffee ring on your table. Where is he, Beverly?"

"Andy, Jack's not here, I swear." She met Andy's gaze steadily. "It's true, I have a… friend, staying with me. But it's not Jack. I wouldn't protect him. Not from something like this. I couldn't."

"I'd like to meet this friend," said Andy sternly.

"Andrew Wilson!" Beverly stood up. "You came here acting like an old friend, inviting yourself in for coffee and sitting down to chat and now you've got the nerve to accuse me of harboring Jack? My _friend_ is resting at the moment. He's recovering from an illness and came down from the city to stay with me for a while. I'll not have you disturbing him." She moved purposefully toward the door.

The young sheriff stood, too, following her a bit sheepishly. "Bev, at least let me have a quick look around the premises. You know I have to make sure Jack's not hiding out on your property someplace…"

"Get out," snapped Beverly. "And don't you come back here, do you hear me? Not without a piece of paper saying you have some kind of legal right."

"Bev, don't be like this," said Andy, trying to placate her. Bev stood her ground, holding the door open for him.

The man moved toward it with a sigh. On the doorsill he paused, trying one more time. "Bev, you know your brother is dangerous. I _have_ to find him and bring him in," he said.

"I know, Andy," said Beverly quietly. "I understand you're just doing your job and I'm glad it's _you _bringing him in and not some Federal guy who doesn't know Jack or care about him."

"I care about _both_ of you, Beverly," said Andy. "You know that."

"I know, Andy. But old coals can't be raked over. We've both moved on. Listen, if I hear from Jack, I'll call you, ok? I was going to drive out there later and deliver the property tax bill anyway."

"I wouldn't recommend it, Beverly," said Andy. "Jack's been acting off for a while now. The last time I stopped out he wouldn't even answer the door to me."

"Were you wearing a badge?"

"No. I just stopped out to see how he was doing. I could hear the horse in the barn and I heard Rufus barking inside the cabin, but he wouldn't come to the door. He's gotten more secretive lately."

"How long ago was that?"

"About… a week and a half, I'd say," said Andy. "I wanted to talk to him about an old case. Do you remember little Bobby Jenkins?"

"That boy who drowned in the pond when we were children?"

"That's the one. I was reading over the file. It seems that Bridgette Jenkins, Bobby's aunt, was the last one to see the boy alive."

"That old scatterbrain?"

"The very same," said Andy with a smile. "She may be a bit too addled for her wits to stand up in court as a witness, but Mrs. Johansson down at the convenience store had a little chat with her a few weeks ago. It seems that old Miss Bridgette remembers things from the past more clearly than she can remember what happened yesterday. She distinctly told Mrs. Johansson that little Bobby was going down to the pond for a swim… and Jack was going with him."

"What?" Beverly felt as if ice water had been poured down the back of her neck. "Jack was… oh, no."

"Yeah," said Andy sadly. "I need to talk to Jack. Bobby's drowning… it might not have been an accident."

"Jack wouldn't… He couldn't, Andy."

"Beverly, Jack shot a young man for walking through the woods." And reached across the table and touched her hand. Beverly jerked away. "Bev, I know he's your brother. But you've got to accept that he's not the boy you looked up to when you were little."

_And he captured and tortured Don,_ thought Beverly. _Oh, Jack, how could you?_

"Andy, if there's anything I can do to help, do let me know," she said quietly. "If he's got to be taken in, I want to be sure he's not hurt by some gung-ho vigilante with a gun." _Or an angry turtle with a stick. _"He's still my brother."

"I appreciate that Beverly. You know I'll do everything I can to help him. You keep yourself safe now, ok?"

"I will, Andy, don't worry."

He paused for a moment on the stairs. "I'm glad you're not alone out here," he said with a lopsided grin. "Even if it's not me keeping you company."

"Thanks, Andy," said Beverly. She watched him climb into his car and back slowly out of the driveway before closing the door.

Donatello appeared so silently at her side, she jumped.

"Oh! You startled me," said Bev. "Did you hear all that?"

"Yes," he said. "Beverly, it's not safe for you to go out to Jack's place."

"I have to," she argued. "I have to talk to him."

Don took her shoulders in his hands. "You can't go out there alone, Bev."

"Well, you can't come with me," she shot back. "Jack's not going to hurt me, but it's not safe for you."

She regretted the words in an instant as she saw a flicker pass through those brown eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I'm stronger now. I can take care of myself," he said. "Beverly, please don't go."

"He's my brother, Donatello. I have to go," she said.

"Then I'm coming with you."

"Don…"

"Beverly, brother or not, he's dangerous. I'm not letting you face him alone," said Donatello firmly.

Bev looked into his eyes for a long moment.

"Donatello, I can't let you. I can't let you hurt him," she said firmly.

"Beverly, I'm not going to attack him. I just want to keep you safe," he said.

His brown eyes stared into hers, steady and uncompromising. She hesitated only a moment before giving him a nod.

"All right," she said. "Let's go."

* * *


	23. Chapter 23 Behind Enemy Lines

**A/N: I'm BACK! Whoot. My laptop has been resuscitated after picking up a rather nasty virus. Thank goodness for Geeks... The shell-less Donatellos of this world who are able to retrieve data bits seemingly lost forever behind a stubbornly dark screen.**

**And now, as they say... on with the show! :)  


* * *

**

_Chapter 23 -Behind Enemy Lines-  
~~~_

Donatello swallowed hard. _This is such a bad idea._

He was sitting at the table, watching Beverly make preparations. She moved neatly and efficiently around the kitchen, making up a list for her shopping in town, packing a few supplies in a bag to give her an excuse for stopping in to see Jack and checking her medical kit, just in case. She tucked a few necessities into a pouch that attached to her belt. Picking up the keys to the truck, she glanced at him.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this? Don, you don't have to come. In fact, I don't want you within a hundred miles of Jack."

_Me, either,_ he thought.

Still, he nodded. "I can't let you go over there alone," he said firmly.

"He's my brother, Donatello."

"Bev, I understand. But he _shot _someone. He may have killed that little boy. He's dangerous, Beverly."

"He didn't kill Bobby," Bev insisted. She met Don's steady gaze and sighed.

"It doesn't sound as though we'll find Jack home anyway," said Beverly sadly. "If he's really left the cabin, he could be gone for weeks. Sometimes he takes it into his head to go off into the woods and I don't see him for a month."

_Too bad he keeps coming back,_ thought Don

"Could he have found out the sheriff is looking for him?"

"I don't know. It's possible. Jack doesn't have much contact with anyone beside myself. Andy stops in once in a while to check on him. We all grew up together. Andy's my age," she explained.

Something in her eyes made Don ask, "So, Andy is… a friend?"

Beverly looked at him, startled. Her face relaxed into a smile. "I can't run anything past you, can I?" she said. "Andy was my high-school sweetheart. We both came back here after college."

"Oh." Donatello suddenly felt an intense dislike for Sheriff Andy Wilson.

"It was a long time ago, Donatello," she said, seeming to sense his thoughts.

Donatello blushed. "Well, I mean, it's not like it… matters, right?" he said.

Beverly snorted softly, but didn't answer. She grabbed her keys off the rack. "You coming or what?" she asked, heading out toward the truck.

Don followed reluctantly._ I can't believe I'm going back to that place. But I can't let her go alone. She may not want to believe Jack's dangerous, but I know better._

"Listen, Donatello," said Beverly, shifting the truck into gear. "I can't very well pull up to the cabin with you in the truck. Why don't I let you out a ways off, say a mile before we get to Jack's? You can wait for me there."

Donatello shook his head. "No way. I'm going with you," he said.

Beverly glanced at him. "How'm I supposed to hide you? He can't see you sitting in the truck."

"Let me out just before we come into view of the cabin," said Don grimly. "I'll be nearby. Jack won't see me, but I'll be able to see you."

"I don't want you to get hurt, Donatello."

"I won't, Beverly, don't worry."

By the time they reached the little dirt track that led to Jack's cabin, Donatello's arms were covered with a thin sheen of sweat. He gripped his bo, tucked at his side. Beverly shot worried glances at him every half-mile or so, but didn't comment.

Donatello concentrated on keeping his breathing deep and even.

_He's not going to get me again. I can't let Beverly go in alone. It's going to be ok. That sheriff said he's not even there…_

It became more difficult to control his breathing as they came around the final curve.

"I'm letting you out here," said Beverly firmly, stopping the truck. Donatello opened his mouth to protest, but Beverly shook her head. "No," she said. "This is plenty close enough. You'll be able to hear me if I need to call you."

He couldn't refute her logic. "I'll be nearby," he said, opening the door.

"Don't worry. Just stay out of sight," she told him.

Don slid to the ground and closed the door carefully behind him. He held onto the handle for just a moment before letting go and disappearing into the brush along side the road. Beverly drove off, the red truck leaving a dust cloud in its wake. Don stood still for almost five minutes, trembling, feeling cold in the warm afternoon sun.

_This is stupid,_ he scolded himself. _I'm a ninja for crying out loud. I'm not afraid of some nut-ball and his dog. I'm _not._ I've faced down the Shredder. I've taken on the Purple Dragons. I've sparred with Raph when he was having a bad temper day. I'm not going to let this guy intimidate me._

Still, it was several more minutes before he could force his legs to move toward the cabin. He moved through the trees, listening for any sound that could indicate Beverly was in trouble. He heard the rumble of the truck's motor stop abruptly and the slam of her door. Her voice floated through the trees as she called to her brother.

Donatello felt chills run down his shell.

_I remember hearing her voice for the first time, when she came into the barn looking for him,_ he thought. _I was scared out of my mind. This is different. I'm not tied to some stall like an animal. I'm ready for him._

He forced himself to move toward the cabin. He was so busy orienting on Bev's voice, he never saw the trip line until it brushed his ankle. It registered an instant later as the net swooped around him, jerking him off his feet and hauling him high into the air.

A startled cry escaped him. His bo clattered to the ground, slipping through the holes of the net. Don struggled, panicked, but the net was sturdy and woven tight. His squirming only served to tighten the bonds around his limbs and shell. His breath came in heaving gasps. He forced himself not to shout, to scream for help.

_If Jack hears me, he'll get here before Beverly does. I have to get out of this on my own. I can't call her._

He heard her voice again, carrying through the trees. He was still struggling when he heard the truck start up. He froze, listening. The truck was rolling down the road, rumbling along the dirt track. It slowed down and stopped. Don heard the change in the engine as it idled.

"Don?" Beverly called to him.

He hesitated. _What if Jack's around? What if he's _with_ her? Would she betray me? I don't think so, but I'm helpless. I can't defend myself…_

"Donatello!" Beverly's voice rose with fear. "Donatello, where are you? Please answer me! He's not here, Don. It's ok, you can come out now."

Donatello hesitated. He squirmed again, trying to get his arm loose so he could grasp the net, but it was no use. He was trapped. He took a deep breath.

_Well, either I trust her or I don't. I guess… I guess I trust her._

"B… Beverly," he called, but his voice came out hardly loud enough to carry a few feet. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Beverly! Over here!"

He heard her light footsteps moving through the brush. He wriggled. He couldn't help it. The feeling of being trapped was too strong.

"Donatello!" Her voice went high as she stepped into the clearing and saw him.

"Bev, help," he called, forcing a calm into his voice that he didn't feel. "I've gotten a little… caught up. Could you help?"

"I think so," she answered. She approached the tree cautiously, watching where she put her feet. He saw her grimace and side-step.

"Hang on," she called.

"I don't have much choice," said Don dryly. He watched as Beverly picked up a sturdy branch and poked at an inoffensive pile of leaves.

_Snap!_ A huge metal trap clanged shut, cutting the branch neatly in half. Beverly tossed the half still in her hands aside and made her way cautiously toward the tree.

"How'd you know that was there?" asked Don, shivering in the warm afternoon sun. _I could've just as easily stepped in that as the net._

"Jack never has been one to do things by halves," she answered. "And I was watching for traps, after Andy said his deputy stepped in one. If I throw you the knife, can you cut yourself free? I'm afraid if I cut the rope down here, you'll fall."

"I think so," answered Don.

_He set bear traps on his property, Bev. Do you still think he's not dangerous?_

He didn't speak the thought aloud. This wasn't the time to start another argument with her; he still needed her help to get loose. Struggling to lower one arm so it was at least in front of him, he pressed his hand against the net, pushing the folds aside and forcing his fist through a hole.

Beverly quickly took off her belt and slid the knife, sheath and all, off. She tossed it carefully up to Don. It landed neatly in his palm. Carefully, he slid the sheath off and dropped it back down to her. Bev picked it up and tucked it into her pocket, turning her gaze anxiously back up to him.

Carefully, Don trimmed the ropes away in front of his plastron. Carefully, he maneuvered, sliding his legs out through the hole so that he was sitting in the net rather like a chair. He kicked his legs, trying to gain momentum. The tree creaked as he swung toward the tree trunk.

"Be careful!" cried Beverly.

"Don't worry," he answered, swinging once more. Catching the tree trunk with his ankles, he wrapped his legs as firmly as he could around the trunk. His grip was imperfect and he grimaced as his injured ankle scraped across the bark.

Once he was able to wrap his legs more firmly around the trunk, he reached out and got one arm around the tree before cutting the rest of the net away. Finally he was free, clinging to the tree-trunk some thirty feet off the ground.

_I'm a turtle, not a squirrel_, he thought. His arms and legs trembled with strain.

"Don! Are you ok?" Beverly was staring up at him anxiously, holding her hands out almost as if she expected to catch him. Donatello almost laughed at the absurdity of the gesture.

"Yeah," he answered, fighting down a light-headed giggle. "I'm going to climb down, just give me a minute."

Releasing his death-grip on the tree, he began to shimmy down the trunk.

_I don't remember climbing like this being so hard. I guess I'm more out of shape than I thought_. He made it down to the last ten feet, but his arms and legs were burning and the awkward grip he had on the tree-trunk had scraped the insides of his forearms and knees raw.

Don was just adjusting his hold to climb down the last bit when a tremor ran through him, making his protesting limbs shake. With a cry, he fell off the tree-trunk, landing flat on his shell with an almighty _whump!_

Stars exploded in his vision as his internal organs seemed to violently re-arrange themselves. A low moan came from the back of his throat before he could stop it. Soft hands touched his arm, making him flinch.

"Don! Donatello! Are you all right?" The soft voice was urgent, forcing him to respond. Blue eyes peered into his, making his already painful breathing even more shallow.

"Speak to me!"

"'m ok," he managed. He saw tears slide down her cheeks, splashing on his plastron and he frowned.

_Why is she crying? She shouldn't be crying,_ he thought hazily. He lifted his hand to touch her soft cheek, wiping away the tears. He tried again, but his burning lungs wouldn't cooperate. "'s ok, Beverly. 'm ok."

"We've got to get you out of here, but I can't move you yet. Don, are you hurt? Did you break anything? Can you feel your arms and legs?" she asked.

Donatello nodded, and instantly wished he hadn't as pain shot through his head. Slowly his thoughts came into sharper focus as his laboring lungs were able to draw in more air.

"Beverly," he managed. "I'm ok, really." Moving slowly, he shifted, first wiggling his hands and feet, then moving his limbs to be sure nothing was broken before cautiously beginning to sit up. The world tilted and spun and he closed his eyes with a moan.

"Don, are you sure you should be moving around?" Beverly's voice was tight with fear.

"I'm sure nothing's broken," he said.

He felt a tugging on his shell and he leaned forward, trying to sit up. Nausea rolled over him in a powerful wave and he threw himself away from her as he retched.

"Don!" She held his shoulders, supporting him as he lost the remains of his breakfast into the leaves.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Here." she handed him a water bottle from the pouch at her hip.

Don took it gratefully, rinsing his mouth and taking a few sips. His stomach settled back to somewhere near where it belonged.

"We've got to get you home," she said softly.

"No, Bev, I…"

"Donatello, you fell hard. You hit your head. You may have a concussion. I'll take you back to the house. You can rest. I'll go into town and call your brother, ok?"

Don sat up slowly, wishing the world would stop spinning.

"Bev, what about Jack?"

"You're hurt and you need to contact your family. Jack can wait. Don't worry. Come on, let me help you up."

Slowly, Don managed to get his feet under him and stand up. He swayed, and felt her arms come around his shell, steadying him.

"We've got to stop meeting this way," he whispered with a weak smile.

"You've got to stop getting yourself hurt," she scolded.

Her cheek brushed his bicep as she pulled his arm around her shoulders, supporting him. He caught a whiff of her shampoo and suddenly he found it very hard to breathe. The warmth of her cheek against his shoulder seemed to radiate through him. The world seemed to stand still for several long heartbeats and Don wasn't sure he cared if it ever started spinning again.

"Hey," he whispered. "It's ok, really. I'm fine."

She turned to look into his face. He caught his breath, seeing those sapphire-blue eyes so close, so intense, staring into his own.

_I wonder what she'd think if I…_

"I was afraid I'd lost you," she whispered. Her gaze never wavered.

"I'm sorry," he said, not sure what else to say.

"You should be. Don't ever scare me like that again," she whispered intensely.

He tried taking a step forward, but the world tilted. Beverly grunted.

"Don't fight me," she said. "Lean on me, Don."

_I seem to be leaning on you an awful lot lately,_ he thought.

He let her lead him back to the truck. Beverly opened the door for him and helped him up onto the seat.

He smiled wryly. "This seems awfully familiar," he said.

"It's getting to be a habit," she replied with a grin.

"I'll try to break it."

"I don't know," she said softly. "I don't mind taking care of you."

Donatello smiled faintly. He leaned back against the seat.

_Oh, Beverly. I want to take care of _you_._

She climbed into the driver's side and shifted the truck into gear, starting gently down the road.


	24. Chapter 24 Tatoo Trouble

**A/N: Seatbelts, people. Seatbelts. **

**

* * *

**_Chapter 24 -Tattoo Trouble-  
~~~_

"So, what didn't you tell Mikey about what you found?" asked Ann.

Raphael glanced at his girlfriend. They were sitting on the porch of the farmhouse. Leo'd driven Austin and April into town to pick up supplies and find out what they could learn about the isolated hunter they'd encountered.

"Whatdaya mean?" he asked gruffly.

_Way ta go, Raph, ya shell-head. She's tryin' ta start a conversation, and I bite 'er head off._

Ann ignored his tone. "You and Leo." She watched him with those piercing brown eyes. "Come on, Raphael, we agreed not to keep secrets from one another, remember?"

Raph sighed. "We saw da dog, is all," he said it quietly, so Mikey wouldn't hear from inside. They could hear the orange-banded turtle rustling around in the kitchen, morosely searching for snack foods.

"And you're ok?" She watched him suspiciously.

Raph sighed. He hated it when she mothered him. He'd hidden a small cut that he'd gotten under the lip of his shell a month ago, to avoid her anxious hovering. It'd gotten infected and she still hadn't forgiven him.

"Yeah. I had ta knock it out," he said.

She was silent for a long moment. Raph sat, tense, waiting for her to jump down his throat for letting the dog get close. Her next words startled him.

"I… I'm glad you didn't kill it," she said finally. "Even with what it did to Mike."

"Fearless wouldn't let me," he growled.

_At least she's not yellin' at me fer gettin' too close._

Ann leaned over, laying a hand on his arm. "You know Mike would've been upset if you had," she said gently.

"Yeah, well I'd've felt better," he told her.

"I know." She patted his arm. "So, what now?"

Raph sighed heavily. "I… I don't know," he said softly. "We didn't find not'in at dis cabin. There wasn't a trace of Donny…" He shivered, remembering the grooves in the wooden stall-slat they'd found.

"What is it?"

"There… there was dis…" Raph shook his head.

Ann waited.

"In da barn, there was dis stall, wit' a horse in it," he explained. "An' another empty one next to it. In da empty one, it… it looked like somet'in was tied up in there. There were… marks on da wood like somethin'd been pullin', ya know? Leo t'inks… Leo t'inks da guy mighta had Donny tied up."

"Oh no. Oh, Raph…" Tears rolled down Ann's cheeks. "We've _got_ to find him," she whispered.

"We're doin' all we can!" snapped Raphael.

"I know." She sighed. "Maybe the others will find something out in town."

"Mebbe. I'm goin' fer a walk." Raph got to his feet.

"Where?" Ann half-stood, alarmed. Leonardo had told them all not to leave the farmhouse.

_Leave it, Ann. One Leo tellin' me what ta do is enough._

"Jus'… aroun'."

"Raph…"

"What?" He turned, glaring. "I'm fine. I don't need ya ta mother me, Ann."

"I'm not, Raph. I just… this guy's dangerous."

Raphael snorted._ Great. Now she t'inks she's gotta protect me from some _human.

"Not as dangerous as _me_," he growled, and stalked off toward the trees.

***

Ann stood, watching Raphael disappear.

_Pig-headed, stubborn pain in the…_ she thought, not for the first time.

"Ann?" Michelangelo called from inside.

"Yes, Mike?"

"We got any pork rinds?"

"I don't know, Mike. You know the others went for supplies. They'll be back soon."

"Is Raph out there with you?" Michelangelo came to the door.

Ann shook her head. "He's gone for a walk."

Mike's blue eyes widened. "Ann, Leo said we're supposed to stay here."

"I know." She sat down on the porch swing with a sigh.

"Maybe I should find him," said Mike. He limped toward the steps.

"Mikey, no, you stay here," said Ann. "It's bad enough Raph went wandering off on his own. Besides, you're hurt."

"'m fine, Ann," said Mike, hesitating. "Austin'll skin me if I go out. Not to mention Leo. But… he shouldn't be out there alone."

"I know," said Ann with a sigh. "But you know Raphael. He won't _listen._"

Michelangelo smiled. "Yeah, that's Raphy," he said. "Well… if he's not back in half an hour, I'll go look for him."

"Ok."

He headed back inside. Ann could hear him bumping around in the kitchen on another fruitless but hopeful search for his favorite snack food.

_Mike's right, Raph shouldn't be out there alone,_ she thought. _He could get hurt. I know the guys think I'm helpless because I'm not a fighter like them, but this is ridiculous. I can't just sit here and do nothing. Don's missing, and they're all going out of their minds over him. And what Raph said about that stall… it sounds awful. I can't sit here while Raph risks getting himself captured too._

She got up and made her way purposefully down the porch, grateful she'd exchanged the low heels she'd warn to classes for a sturdy pair of sneakers. Ann entered the trees at about the same point she'd seen Raph go, and started walking.

_It really is beautiful here,_ she thought. _Maybe we can come back sometime, after they find Don. I could look at the trees for hours. Everything's so bright, so clean and beautiful. I miss the city, though, the colors and lights and sounds. I hope we find Don soon… I'm supposed to have a test in Courtroom Ethics next week. I'll have to call Professor Trenwally and tell her I won't be there, just in case we don't get back in time. Raph's family is his first priority and he's mine. _

Ann followed a faint deer-trail through the trees. She called Raphael's name a few times, but only the song-birds answered.

_Maybe I should head back. I've been walking over an hour. Leo and the girls will be back, they'll be worrying. I suppose Leo will be furious with me as well as Raphael._

She flipped open her shell-cel and saw that there were two new messages waiting for her on voice-mail. She swore aloud. _I never heard it ring. Well, better head back and face the music._

Ann had taken three steps toward the house when an enormous figure loomed out of the trees, bearing down on her. She barely had time to register that it was a man, riding a horse, before he swung down from the saddle, grabbing her arm.

"What're you doing out here?" he demanded gruffly.

Ann instinctively used the combination strike-kick Raphael had taught her, catching the man sharply in the side of the knee with a kick and at the same time striking his elbow with her free hand to try and make him release his grip.

She didn't count on his dodge and counter- strike. He slapped her hard with an open hand and caught her in the chest with a solid punch. Ann sank to her knees, dizzy and near passing out. He leaned down. She gasped as his rough fingers grabbed the neck of her tank-top, jerking it aside. His eyes narrowed.

"A turtle? That's an _unusual_ tattoo you've got there. And it's got a mask? Red, not purple, but still…"

"Purple? You… you've seen…" Ann managed.

"You know him?" he growled.

"Don't know… what you're talking about," she gasped, realizing an instant too late that it would be wiser not to let the man know she was looking for Donatello.

"I think you do." His voice was cold, calculating. He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. "And I bet you know where to find him, too. In fact, I bet you know quite a bit about him."

"You're… insane," she forced the air from her burning lungs. "What do you want?"

"I want him _back_," growled the man. "I want to know what you people are doing, coming around like this. A man's land is his _home_. You government types, you're all the same, aren't you? Just don't know when to quit. First you send that _freak_ out snoopin' around, and now you."

"I'm not… what are you _talking_ about?" snapped Ann. "I'm a law student at New York University."

The man snorted. "Whatever. You're going to tell me where I can find that turtle."

Ann met his eyes and felt ice stream through her veins.

_He's insane_, she thought. _And he did have Don. Now… now he has _me.


	25. Chapter 25 Friends

_Chapter 25 -Friends-  
~~~_

Beverly watched the road ahead calmly, but her thoughts were racing.

_Jack wasn't there. Where could he be? What if he shows up at the house? I can't let him get a hold of Don again. What are we going to do? __He says he has to go home to his brothers. He's worried about them, I can see it in his eyes. And he can't stay with me, anyway. Jack would find him. _

_What was I thinking? I should never have let him go to Jack's with me. _She glanced over. Don was resting his head back on the seat. Her breath caught in her throat. _He's amazing._ She sighed softly. _I couldn't bear it if something happened to him. Now what? Where do we go from here? Eventually he's going to go back to the city…_

Bev fought back tears, feeling a sharp pain in her chest.

_I don't know if I could bear never seeing him again. _

"Don?" she asked, aware of how timid she sounded.

"Yes?" His voice was calm, steady, but when she glanced over again, she saw his hand tremble.

"Did… did you… mean it?" she asked softly.

"Did I mean what?"

"When you said… you'd like me to meet your family? Do… do you really trust me to meet them?"

"Yes, Beverly," he said. "You've done nothing but help me. You saved my life. Of course I want you to meet my family."

"Don… I… how are you feeling?" Beverly cursed herself mentally.

_I can't… I can't do this. I can't be falling in love with him. This is insane…_

"I'm ok," he said, managing a smile. He reached out tentatively and touched her hand. Slowly, she turned to look at him and caught her breath as she gazed into those impossibly soft brown eyes. "Really."

"When you fell… I mean, I thought… Don, you really scared me," she admitted.

"I'm sorry."

Bev took a deep breath and pulled the truck over to the side of the road. She turned, gazing into his eyes. Don met her look steadily. There was something in his eyes she couldn't quite place, something questioning, waiting.

"Don, I… I don't know how to say this. I mean… maybe I'm crazy, but if I just let you leave without saying anything, I'll never forgive myself."

"What do you mean, Bev?" he asked.

"I think I… might… I mean… Don, I… I _like_ you."

"I like you too, Beverly."

The question he didn't quite ask hung in the air between them. When he didn't say anything more, she turned away, blushing.

_I'm such an idiot. Of course he doesn't feel the same way. I wonder if he even likes human girls… but he said his brother is married… _

"I'm sorry, Don." she muttered.

"Beverly, you… you've been a really good friend to me. I'm sorry I didn't trust you before," he said gently, reaching to touch her hand.

Bev looked up as he trailed off, that odd blush creeping up his cheeks again.

"Donatello… how will your family feel about all this? I mean, my brother… I still don't believe he hurt little Bobby Jenkins, but he did kidnap you. Do… do you think they'll… accept me?"

Donatello nodded. "How can they not? Bev, you're… you're amazing."

"I can't wait to meet them," she said. She drew a shaky breath, reaching to start the truck again with trembling fingers.

_I guess I'm glad I didn't declare my undying affection. Stupid of me to think he might feel the same way. We're just friends. I'm lucky… so lucky to have even that. It's a wonder that he wants anything to do with me. So why don't I feel lucky? Why do I still want something more? I guess love just isn't something I'm meant to have in my life._

"Beverly…" His voice was soft, uncertain. "Are you sure you still want to try and help me? I mean… what about Jack?"

"Donatello." She shook her head with a smile. "You think too much. Let _me_ worry about Jack, ok?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "Ok," he said finally.

_As much as I want us to just go back to the house and forget the rest of the world exists, I know you're worried about your family_. _Once you go home with them, I can concentrate on getting Jack out of the mess he's gotten himself into with this hiker._

"After I call your brother, we can figure out what to do next, ok?"

"Yeah," said Donatello.

"You know, all of this probably would've been a lot simpler if you'd just let me make the phone call for you in the first place," she remarked.

"Beverly, please try to understand." His voice was soft, pleading. "I didn't mean to hurt you… I just… _please_ understand. There are a lot of people like Jack… people who'd try to harm my family. I couldn't take a chance. We're always cautious. It's… it's not personal."

"Oh, so my getting you out of Jack's barn, that wasn't personal?" she snapped. Unreasonable anger rose in her. "And when you stole my truck, that wasn't personal either? How about teaching me to spar, Don? Was that personal?"

"Beverly…"

She jerked the truck into gear. "Whatever."

"Bev, wait. Teaching you… yes, that was personal. I… I'm not a teacher. I just wanted to spend time with you," he said softly. "I wanted to… to help you defend yourself. Because I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you. And I… Bev, I didn't want to leave before… I was enjoying our time together."

She glanced over at him. He was staring at his lap, as if he were ashamed.

"I didn't want it to end," he confessed.

"You… wanted to stay with me?"

"Yeah." He glanced at her. "You're a great cook."

Beverly snorted. She couldn't help the smile that crept across her face. "So, the route to a man's heart really is through his stomach, huh?"

Donatello grinned. "Yep." His expression turned more serious. "Bev, please. I… I couldn't risk leading you to the others. Not until I was sure my family's secret would be safe with you."

"So are you sure you can trust me now?" Her tone was light, but the glance she shot him was piercing.

"Beverly," said Don quietly. "I've been sure."

"Since when?"

"Since I woke up in your bed again after I stole your truck," he said softly. "You didn't have to come find me, bring me back and take care of me. I knew then that you really were trying to help me."

She snorted. "It took you that long? Are you always so thick?" she asked.

Don nodded. "Yep." A smirk played across his face.

She glanced at him. "I bet. A computer expert who can hot-wire an old Chevy, master of the grill and ninja vigilante? You're no dummy, Donatello."

"Well, sometimes I am," he said softly.

"No, I think you just think too much," Bev told him, smiling.

"Maybe I do."

He reached across the seat almost timidly to touch her knee. Beverly sighed. She took one hand off the wheel and grasped his fingers firmly. She felt him twitch with surprise, but she held on. When she glanced at him again, he was blushing.

_He's cute when he blushes,_ she thought with a smile.


	26. Chapter 26 Family

_Chapter 26 -Family-  
~~~_

Donatello felt Beverly's presence as if she were the source of an electric current which seemed to be running up his arm and down the back of his shell. He stole another glance at the woman sitting next to him.

_For a minute there, I thought... but that's silly. What on earth would she see in _me_?_ he thought. _She's gorgeous. And that sheriff guy, Andy, obviously still likes her. Why would she choose me over him? And even if she did mean anything by what she said, she'd never want to go back to the city with me. Where would we live? I can't leave my brothers. But…_ she glanced over, giving him a shy smile and he felt his breathing almost stop. _But I don't want to leave her, either._

A burning behind his eyes had Don blinking.

_She's right. I think too much. Think about things I can't have. Think about a future that's not going to happen. I've got to concentrate on getting back to the others. Oh, man, the others…Leo's going to have my shell mounted and hung on his wall. And Mike'll be mad at me for leaving him for so long. Raph…_ Don smiled. _Raph'll probably congratulate me. I wonder what Sensei will say._ Don shifted uncomfortably on the seat. _I wonder what Beverly will think of him… of all of them._

"Bev?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"How… how do you feel about… rats?"

"What? She wrinkled her nose. "You mean, like sewer rats?"

"Umm… no, not exactly."

She shot him a questioning glance. "Well, my friend Dianne had a pet rat when we were kids," she said. "He was ok, I guess."

Donatello smiled faintly. "Well, that's a start," he said.

"Don, why the sudden interest in rodents?" she asked.

"Umm… I just thought I should tell you, you know, ahead of time, so when you meet my family…"

"What about them? I thought your brothers were… like you."

"They are. But our father, our sensei… His mutation is… different."

"Different, how?" She looked at him again, her expression positively alarmed.

"Watch the road. You see, Splinter, he's… he's a rat."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah. And, my best friend is a crocodile."

Beverly pulled over again, easing to the shoulder and shifting the truck into park. She leaned forward, resting her head on the steering wheel. She took a deep, shuddering breath before turning to face Donatello again.

"Is that all?" she asked calmly.

_I don't know whether I should mention Usagi. She might have a nervous breakdown,_ thought Donatello.

"Umm, well," he stammered weakly.

"Do I want to know?" she asked. "I mean, you're not friends with any… giant worms or slugs or anything, are you?"

Don shook his head, thinking of the underground city he and his brothers had discovered with its humanoid-worm inhabitants. "No," he said softly.

"Good. I can't stand bugs," she said. She shifted the truck back into gear and rolled forward again.

"Well, you'll get along with Raph, then," said Don with a smirk. "He hates bugs, too."

She shot him a curious glance from those blue eyes. "Tell me about them," she said. "Your family, I mean. What are they like?"

"Well," Don said slowly, turning over the answer in his mind. "There's Leonardo, he's kind of like the oldest. We don't actually _know_ who's oldest. Biologically speaking, we're all the same age, but he's kind of fallen into that role. He's the leader of our clan."

"Leader of… your what?" Beverly frowned, looking puzzled.

"Amongst Ninja and Samurai, families are known as "clans", explained Donatello. "We follow a strict code of honor called Bushido. It's the warrior's code. _Gi, yuu, jin, rei, makoto, yo, chuu _are the seven principals we strive to live by. They translate to rectitude, courage, benevolence, respect, honesty, honor and loyalty."

The woman glanced at Donatello, taking new stock.

"I… think I understand," she said. " That certainly explains a lot about you. So, Leonardo, he's your leader?"

"Yes. It's his responsibility to look after us," said Don quietly. "We work together as a team. He's the head of the family after Splinter, our father."

"So Splinter… he's… a rat, right?"

"Yes." Donatello smiled. "Raph calls him a ninety-pound weapon of mass destruction."

"Really? He's a fighter?" Beverly's eyebrows disappeared under her bangs.

"Not unless he's cornered," explained Don. "Or one of us is in extreme danger."

"What should I do? When I meet him, I mean?" she sounded timid all of a sudden, unsure. "I mean, I've never met a ninja master before, let alone a rat. A talking rat, I mean." A blush crept up her cheeks.

"Don't worry, Bev," said Don reassuringly. "You'll do fine. Father has a way of putting people at ease."

"I'll take your word for it," she muttered. "Ok, so what about your other brothers?"

"Well, Raph's the next oldest," said Donatello. "He's definitely the strongest of the four of us. He can be kind of rough around the edges, but he's loyal and passionate. He'd defend us, any of us, with his last breath."

"And he's… married?"

"Not yet. His girlfriend is Ann. She's a law student at New York U," explained Don. "They decided to wait on the whole marriage thing."

"Really? A law student?" Bev sounded fascinated. "How'd they meet?"

"It's a long story," said Don with a grin. "Ann was blind. Raph met her in the park one night when some kids tried to steal her guide dog, Bailey. He helped her get home and they got to know each other a little. She figured out right away he wasn't your average knight in shining armor."

Beverly laughed. "More like a knight in turtle armor," she quipped.

"Yep. Ann had surgery on her eyes. She can see now," he said.

"Really?" Beverly glanced at him. "I've never heard of a procedure… I mean, how?"

"It's too bad, really," said Donatello. "The guy who did it is a genius, but he's crazy. He captured Raph and tried his technique out on him, used him as a guinea pig. We were afraid he wouldn't get his sight back."

_Of course, if I can figure out his technique, and submit an article to a medical journal, it might become common practice. But it's hard to cite research that was preformed illegally, and on a mutated turtle whose survival depends on secrecy._

"Wait, he kidnapped your brother, and preformed an experimental surgery on his _eyes_, just to test a technique? Not knowing for sure if it would work? What if he'd blinded him?"

"Bev, I told you, our lives are complicated," explained Don patiently. "Your brother isn't the only one who figures we're just animals."

"Donatello," said Beverly quietly, squeezing his hand. "You are _no_ animal." She took in a slow, deep breath, as if to calm her emotions.

"What about your other brother? Mikey?"

Don smiled. "Michelangelo. He's the clown. He's always goofing off, always laughing, but he's the fastest of us, and he can hold his own in a fight. He likes to skateboard and play video games. He writes children's books and draws illustrations."

"Really? That's amazing." Beverly smiled.

"Yeah. He just had his first picture book published this year," said Don with a smile. "_Turtles on the Moon_."

"Oh my goodness, I saw an advertisement for that book. I loved the pictures. Your brother did that? Really?"

"He sure did." Don smiled, pride filling him. "He's really talented."

"I can hardly believe it," she said. "Do you think I could get his autograph?"

"Are you kidding? He'll be thrilled." Don laughed quietly.

"You said he's married?"

"Yep. Her name's Austin." Don smiled. "She teaches gymnastics at the local Boy's and Girl's Club and practices martial arts, too. She's been great for Mikey. She's the only one who can keep up with him."

"So, how about you?" she asked. "You fix computers. You're good with your hands. You know about Chaos Theory, read Emerson and live by a code of honor. What else should I know about you, Donatello?"

"Well… umm…" Don blushed. "What do you _want_ to know?"

"What's your favorite song?" she asked.

_The one you were singing the other night in the kitchen. I never heard anything so beautiful._

Donatello smiled, feeling a little foolish. He swallowed hard.

"Seriously? I listen to different kinds of music. I… I like Conway Twitty," he confessed.

"Really? You're a country fan?"

"Well, not _all_ country," said Don. This was easier. "Just… certain songs, you know? And I like some hip-hop, some heavy metal, some classical. I'm a sucker for Mozart."

"Mozart, huh?"

"Yep. What else?"

"Well, do you have any hobbies?"

"I like to invent things."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep. Almost all the technology we have was scavenged from the dump," he said, letting just a note of pride creep into his voice. "I fixed it up, made it work. Sometimes I improve upon the old design."

"That's amazing," she said.

"Not really." He blushed. "We just… make due, you know?"

"So, are your brother's girlfriends the only other people who know you guys?"

"No," said Don. "There's April and Casey Jones. April was our first human friend," said Don with a smile.

"April? How'd she meet you guys?"

"Raph saved her life, and brought her home with him one night almost ten years ago. She was the first human we'd ever actually met face-to-face."

"Wow."

"Yeah. She's great. She helps me with a lot of my inventions and she's a whiz with computers," he said.

"Careful. I might start to get jealous," teased Beverly.

Don smiled ruefully. "Don't worry. She's married."

"Well, that's all right then."

Donatello laughed. "You're cute when you're being possessive," he said.

Beverly gave him the look that deserved as she pulled into her driveway.

"Come on, Romeo," she said. "Let's get you settled in so I can go and make that phone call."

* * *

**A/N: Am I the only one who's ready to just bang their heads together at this point? Friends?! REALLY? After I invested all this time into writing 26 chapters, you two think you're going to just be FRIENDS?!! AAAAUUUGGHH!!**

**Yes, that was the sound of an author having a nervous breakdown. So maybe you'll forgive me if I take drastic measures in the upcoming chapters. :-p**


	27. Chapter 27 Searching

_Chapter 27 -Searching-  
~~~_

Hamato Raphael was furious and an angry Raph was a force to be reckoned with. He stared at the blip on the screen of his shell-cell as if it had personally insulted him. The inoffensive little beacon went on blinking, unconcerned.

"It ain't movin', Leo," growled Raphael.

"I _know_, Raph." Leonardo answered. "Maybe she got turned around, and has the good sense to stay in one place so we can find her more easily." He refrained from reminding his brother why Ann went out into the woods in the first place; to find her temperamental boy-friend.

"I don't like it Fearless," said Raph. "It ain't like Ann ta sit still. Not fer long. She'd be tryin' ta find her way back."

"We won't know until we find her signal," said Leo with a sigh. "It should be someplace up ahead, about 100 more yards."

Raph darted ahead. "Ann!" His hoarse cry echoed through the trees, but the only answer was the flutter of a startled covey of quail. "Ann, where are ya?" yelled Raph again.

Leonardo shook his head. _So much for silence,_ he thought.

He came behind his brother more quietly and cautiously. Raph knelt in the leaves, cradling something in his hands. Leo came up cautiously, seeing that his brother's shoulders were shaking.

"Raph? Raph, what's wrong?" Stepping closer, he saw a shell-shaped device resting in the dark green palms. Raph looked up, his amber gaze burning with grief and fury.

"He… he's got her, Leo." The usually gruff voice was soft, broken. "He took 'er. First Donny, an' now… an' now he's… he's got Ann."

Leonardo knelt, searching the ground with his eyes. He saw the leaves, stirred up, the rounded impressions that could only have been made by hooves.

"We're going to find her, Raph. We're going to get her back. Don, too."

"I'll kill 'im," growled Raph, standing up. He caressed the edge of the phone with his finger before tucking it carefully into his belt. He drew his sai.

"Raph…"

Amber eyes swung toward Leonardo, glaring. Leo shook his head.

"I'm right behind you, bro."

***

Ann squirmed. The man had tied her hands tightly behind her back and lifted her bodily into the saddle. When she struggled, kicking out, he'd leaned close to her ear.

"You want to ride sitting up, lady, or not?" he growled.

Understanding his intention of throwing her face-down over the saddle like a sack of wheat, she stopped struggling and allowed herself to be placed on the seat. He climbed up behind her, crushing her uncomfortably against the saddle-horn, but at least this way she could see where they were going.

"Let me _go_," she said again, wriggling.

"Shut it," he said, tightening his hold around her waist. "Unless you're gonna tell me where that turtle is."

"I'm not telling you _anything,_" growled Ann.

"Oh, I think you will," said the man with a cold chuckle. "Give it time."

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she snapped. "Why on earth would you want… a turtle, anyway? What did he ever do to you?"

"You might as well drop the act, lady," the man said. "He told me his name is Donatello. He said he was from the city. Some cover-story. Do I look like some back-woods hick to you?"

"You sure _smell_ like something that crawled out of the back woods," she shot back. She heard the man growl low in his throat.

"He came offa that army base," he said. "Snoopin' around, just lookin' fer trouble. What other kind of experiments they got down there, anyway? What do they want?"

"Did it ever occur to you he was telling the truth?" snapped Ann.

"So you _do_ know him." The man laughed.

Ann cursed mentally.

"So what if I do?" She decided to go with defiance. "He's not from any army base. He's not an _experiment_."

"And just how do you know so much about him?"

"He's my _friend_," said Ann, her patience snapping. "He didn't come from any Army base. You're crazy. What have you done with him?"

"I ain't done not'in with him," Jack replied. "I had him for a couple days but he got loose somehow. He won't get far. He weren't in good shape when I was through with him."

"What are you talking about? What did you do to him?" Ann's fury was growing. She fought the bonds digging into her wrists, ignoring the pain and the slick, stickiness that slid down, puddling in her palms.

"Not much," said Jack. "He's a tough one, I'll give him that. I was near breaking him though. He would've cracked, in a day or two. He would've told me everything. And he will. I'll get him back. If you're his _friend_, he'll come looking for you, won't he? We'll just have to make sure we give him a warm welcome."

"I'm not helping you."

"You will." Jack chuckled again, a cold, dark sound.

"Not if I can help it!"

Ann threw herself to the side, making a desperate bid for freedom. Jack caught her arm. She tilted dangerously to one side, making the horse jog about nervously. The man hauled her unceremoniously back upright, sending pain shooting through her upper arm.

"Another trick like that and I'll make you wish you hadn't," he growled, wrapping an iron arm around her waist. Ann wriggled, but with her hands bound behind her back there was little she could do.

Jack nudged the horse, directing the animal deeper into the trees. "There's a little cave up ahead," he told her. "We'll set up camp there for tonight. If you know what's good for you, you'll tell me about this turtle."

"I'm not telling you _anything_," snapped Ann.

"Don't think just because you're a _girl_ that I'll go easy on you," he warned. "You'll tell me what I need to know."

"Never."

"We'll see."

Jack stopped the horse and dismounted, yanking Ann to the ground. He dropped her unceremoniously to one side. She tried to scramble away, but her leg muscles were cracking from the ride. Jack grabbed her ankles and bound them so tightly her breath hissed through her teeth. He used another thong to tie her knees, ensuring she couldn't get to her feet. Finally he drew a length of rope around her neck. Ann squirmed, but he held it firmly, tying it off to a tree.

"Rufus, guard," he commanded. The big dog sat down a few feet from Ann, watching her with its eerie golden-brown eyes. She squirmed, wriggling against the ropes. The dog growled low in its throat.

Ann froze, remembering Michelangelo's leg. She swallowed hard, feeling the rope move against her neck.

_I'm sorry, Raph. Please help me. _

Ann watched the man disappear through the trees, leading the horse. She squirmed again, but the dog growled, and she froze. She felt tears of frustration burn her eyes.

After an hour, her legs hurt from their extended confinement and she was certain Jack had left her to die.

"Help!" she yelled. The dog stood up, growling low in its throat. Ann eyed it warily.

"Nice doggy," she said quietly. "Nice Rufus. That's a good boy."

The dog wagged its tail slowly and sat down, its eyes never leaving her face.

"Help!" she yelled again, keeping an eye on the dog. The growl rumbled low in his throat again, but this time he stayed sitting.

"Help! Help me! I'm over here!" Ann shouted. She kept on shouting until she was hoarse and her voice echoed through the trees.

She didn't really expect an answer, but movement in the trees nearby made her freeze. The dog stood up again, growling.

"Ann? Ann where are ya? We're comin', Ann!"

"Raph!" Ann felt tears burn her eyes. "Raph, look out! The dog is here!"

Rufus was on his feet. A bark exploded from him.

"Down!" Ann gave the command out of desperation. "Down, Rufus!"

The dog looked at her. She met its gaze steadily. "Down, boy," she said firmly. The dog whined, but slowly lowered its bottom to the ground.

"Good boy," crooned Ann. "Stay," she added for good measure. She heard footsteps approaching.

"Ann?" She glanced at the red-banded turtle. His sai were clutched in his hands. Leonardo was close behind, his katanas drawn and ready.

"It's ok, Raph," she said quickly. "Don't make any sudden moves. He's listening to me."

"Ann, are ya ok? Yer not hurt?" Raph's voice was strained with anxiety.

"I'm fine, Raphael," she answered quickly. "You can come over. It's ok, he's not going to do anything. _Sit,_ Rufus."

The dog sighed deeply, its gaze flicking from the turtles to Ann.

"Down," she commanded. He lay down obediently, resting his chin on his paws.

"_Shell_," breathed Raph. He approached slowly, his amber eyes flicking from her to the dog and back. "How'd ya do dat?"

"He's a good dog," she said softly, keeping her tone low and even for Rufus' sake. "Get me out of this, Raph. That awful man was here. He left me and went off into the woods somewhere."

"I'm gonna skin 'im," growled Raphael.

Rufus lifted his head with the beginnings of a growl.

"No, Raph. I just want to go home. Please, Raphael," whispered Ann, leaning over to rest her head against his plastron as he reached around her to cut the ropes.

"I've got it, Raph," said Leo. Ann felt cold steel brush her wrist. She froze.

"Careful, Leo," Raph said.

"Don't worry."

The next moment, Ann found herself lifted in the red-masked turtle's arms.

"I can walk," she protested.

Raphael shook his head. "Yer not walkin' anywhere," he said softly, nuzzling her hair. "Come on. I'll get ya back ta da Battle Shell. Den we'll find dis Jack guy an' make 'im tell us where Donny is."

She leaned into his chest, reaching up to grasp the edge of his shell.

"He doesn't have Don anymore, Raph," she said softly. Tears traced down her cheeks. "Donny's alive, and he's ok. He got away."

"Den why didn't he come home?" asked Raphael.

Ann pressed herself closer to his plastron. She didn't have an answer.

"The girls said someone in town told them this guy has a sister," said Leonardo quietly. "Now that you're safe, Ann, we'll find her. Maybe she knows where Don is."

Ann nodded, pressing her cheek against Raphael's plastron.

"She'd better not have hurt him," she muttered. "Or she'll answer to _me._"

She felt Raph's rumbling chuckle vibrate against her cheek.

"Dat's my girl," he whispered.

* * *

**A/N: Fast rescue, I know. Raph was a little... insistent. *looks nervously over shoulder at angry turtle* Besides, I've only got 3 more chaps in which to wrap this up. Don, I'm so sorry for the next chapter. But you have to admit, you've had it coming for being so stubborn! :-p**


	28. Chapter 28 Rendezvous

_Chapter 28 -Rendezvous-  
~~~_

Jack Koban cursed. He held the cut ends of the rope in his hands, twisting them between his fingers. There was no doubt about it, they'd been sliced clean through.

_That turtle. He must be lurking around still. He must've found her and cut her loose. But how'd he get past Rufus? And where'd he get a knife?_

He glared at the dog, who lay calmly a few feet away, watching him with dark amber eyes. The dog's gaze was too calm, too peaceful somehow, mocking him.

"You stupid _mutt,_" growled Jack. He stood up. "Some watch-dog _you_ are, letting him waltz in here and take her like that." He stared at the dog. It's eyes reminded him of the turtle's eyes. Jack gave himself a mental shake.

He'd had Rufus five years. _He's just a dog. Not smart enough for them to brain-wash,_ he thought. He looked down at the rope still dangling from his fingers. _But Beverly… She's smart. And soft. Too soft for her own good. She always was one for bringing home every stray critter she came across…_ He glanced at Rufus again. _If that critter had Beverly with him, Rufus would've listened to her. I haven't paid my sister a visit in too long. Maybe it's time I headed over that way._ _It's not far from here, just a couple miles through the woods._

Whistling to his dog, Jack re-mounted his horse and headed off into the trees.

***

It took less than an hour for Jack Koban to reach his sister's house. He tied the horse to a tree and after a moment's consideration, attached a length of rope to Rufus' collar. He didn't quite believe the turtle had somehow hypnotized his dog into obeying it, but he wasn't about to take a chance on the thing using his own dog against him. He approached the house slowly, cautiously, meaning to scout around and peer through the windows before he announced his presence. Before he was half-way across the yard, though, his sister came through the front door, her truck keys dangling from her hand.

She spotted him and hurried down the steps. "Jack! I've been looking everywhere for you… Did you know Andy Wilson is looking for you?" Her face was pale, her voice nervous. "Some girls found that kid, that hiker. He's ok, but you've got to come into town, give a statement…" she trailed off as his eyes narrowed.

"My own sister," he growled, his suspicions suddenly gelling into certainty. "You've been in on it the whole time, haven't you?" He grabbed Beverly's arm in an iron grip.

She squirmed. "What? Jack, let me go. This is crazy. I'm your _sister_. Andy came to see me. He's worried about you, Jack."

"Typical. Try getting in on a man's family. Get close, then strike. Yep, that's how they work," he muttered.

"Jack, you've known Andy Wilson our entire lives. He can help."

Jack scowled. _That's right, Beverly. Play innocent. Pretend you don't know anything._

"Help? I don't need no help, Beverly."

"Jack, Andy said you shot a kid who was walking in the woods. You've got to go into town and explain things. Andy can smooth it over, like he's always done."

Jack laughed, a short, sharp sound. "I don't need Andy smoothin' over stuff fer me, Beverly."

"Jack… Why don't we go and talk to Andy. You didn't kill that kid, either. You couldn't have… Bobby Jenkin's drowning was an accident. Andy can still fix this..."

"I dunno what yer talkin' about," growled Jack. "Bobby Jenkins got what he deserved."

"You don't mean that, Jack." Beverly's eyes pleaded with him. "What about the boy? Did you shoot him?"

"That hiker? He was trespassing."

"Jack, he was walking on public land. You can't go around shooting every random hiker who wanders onto the farm," Beverly scolded.

Jack was watching her with narrowed eyes.

"What about random _turtles_," he hissed.

Bev couldn't hide the flicker of shock that crossed her features. "What?"

"You helped it, didn't you? You were the one who set it loose. No way it got out of those ropes by itself. I knew it didn't break those ropes."

"I… I don't know what you're talking about."

"I found yer hairs in the barn, Beverly," he snarled, laying his cards out on the table. "Stuck on that loose board. I didn't think nothin' of it at the time. An' that girl, who says it's her friend? You cut her loose. No way did she get past Rufus by herself. You had to have done it. I shoulda known from the day the thing first got loose from the barn that you were involved. You've always been too soft-hearted for your own good. That thing's dangerous, Beverly!" He gave her a shake. "Where is it?"

"I don't know, Jack. What girl? What turtle? What are you talking about?" Bev tried to bluff, but Jack wasn't fooled.

"You might be my sister, but you're a traitor, to your family and to your country. That turtle-thing's runnin' loose. Who knows what it's planning?"

He watched her expression shift from confusion and fear to anger.

"_Its_ name is Donatello, Jack. 'It' isn't planning _anything_. You almost killed him. He was just walking, Jack. He was trying to walk and enjoy a little peace, goodness knows we could all use a little peace once in a while. Do you know what it's like to be _hunted_? And then you come along and attack him for no good reason…" she trailed off as Jack stared at her.

"I _knew_ it." Jack chuckled. "I knew that critter got to you. You never did understand, Bev." He shook his head. "You never did understand how some thing can look all sweet and nice and turn around an' bite you. You were always wanting to make pets out of wild babies. Remember that raccoon? Granddad had to shoot it."

Beverly shuddered and Jack smirked. She'd brought home a tiny raccoon kit, thinking to nurse it back to health. Their grandfather had taken it away from her, taken it out back and unceremoniously shot it in the head.

"He didn't have to do that," she whispered.

"He did. That 'coon would've torn you open," Jack told her. "Even the babies got teeth, Bev. They'll bite. They can't help being animals. It's just how they are."

"That doesn't mean _we_ have to be animals, Jack. We're civilized. We can think, make choices. We don't have to live this way." Beverly stared into his eyes, searching.

He laughed gruffly. "Men ain't civilized, Beverly," he growled. "You of all people ought to know that. We try to pretend, but when it comes down to survival, the strong ones do what they've gotta do, and the weak ones die, just like in nature."

"What about honor, Jack?" asked Beverly quietly. "What about being more than just an animal? What about sacrifice? What about _love_?"

"There's no such thing," snapped Jack. "Honor's for fools. Sacrifice? Who's going to sacrifice for you, Bev? Me, mebbe, 'cause we're family. Loyalty, that's the thing. You've got to look out for your family. You didn't even do that. You betrayed me, Bev, letting that turtle go free. You betrayed me for the last time."

Beverly went even paler. "Jack…"

"Sorry, Bev. It's how it has to be. I'm not going to town. I'm not talkin' to Andy Wilson. And neither are you." He drew his hunting knife from his belt. "I'll be quick," he said grimly.

Beverly screamed.


	29. Chapter 29 Rescue

_Chapter 29 -Rescue-  
~~~_

Donatello had cursed quietly when he saw Jack grab Beverly, but he'd promised her he wouldn't attack Jack, so he waited.

_She seemed convinced she could talk to him. I'll give her a chance. _He watched through narrowed eyes as they conversed, growing increasingly tense.

Bev's scream acted as an electric current direct to Don's spine. He never felt his feet leave the porch, wasn't even aware of the battle-cry that roared forth as he crashed into Jack Koban, rolling him away from his sister and into the grass. Jack was on his feet in an instant, crouching in a fighting stance. Don matched his pose, putting himself between Jack and the trembling woman.

"Don't you touch her, Jack," growled the turtle.

"_You_." Jack spat the word. "What're you doing with my sister?"

"Protecting her from an insane man," snapped Donatello. "You were going to hurt her. Your own sister! And you called _me_ an animal."

"She betrayed me," Jack shot back. "She turned on her own flesh and blood."

"You're crazy," said Donatello. "She _helped_ me. She didn't have to do that, but she did."

"She felt sorry for you," sneered Jack. "She always was soft."

"She's the strongest person I've ever met," Don told him.

Beverly cried out as he lunged, catching Jack in the chest with a swift right jab. _I'm sorry, Bev, but I can't let him hurt you._

Jack swung, and the knife sliced into Donatello's left arm.

"Don!" Beverly's anguished cry hurt more deeply than the wound. He jerked back, his gaze flicking to the blood flowing down his arm before returning to Jack, who was circling now, looking for an opening. Beverly scrambled out of the way.

Jack darted forward, aiming a blow at the place where Don's plastron ended, leaving his neck exposed. Don dodged aside. At the last instant, Jack adjusted his aim, diving low for the sensitive place between the shell and plastron. The turtle twisted so that the blade glanced off his shell-plates, hissing as it nicked his side.

He spun as Jack slid past him, aiming a punch at Jack's head. Jack ducked instinctively. Donatello growled low in his throat, landing and throwing out a sweep. Jack landed with an almighty _crash_, but rolled aside before Don could pin him.

Donatello scrambled to his feet, dodging another lunge. Jack thrust forward with the knife, sweat showing clearly on his brow now. Don grabbed his wrist and flipped him neatly over his shoulder. Jack crashed to the ground again, landing with a distinct _thud_. The knife flew out of his hand. Don was on him in an instant. He grabbed the man's throat, pinning him to the ground. Jack's eyes were wide in his pale face. Vaguely, as if from a distance, Donatello could hear Beverly's muffled sobs.

Slowly, a sneer crossed Jack's features. "You… won, turtle," he hissed. "Go ahead. Finish it."

For an instant, Don wanted to squeeze the life out of the man. Rage surged in his chest. He'd threatened Beverly, threatened to hurt the woman he loved… Don felt a thrill of shock.

_I do love her. How could I have been such a fool? I almost lost her, and I never would've had the chance to tell her._

"No," he said slowly. "You're not worth it. Honor does mean something." He looked up, meeting Beverly's tear-filled eyes. "At least to me." He got up, releasing Jack's throat. "Get some rope, Bev. I'll tie him up and you can run into town and call your policeman friend."

"Donatello, look out!" shouted Beverly, her eyes going wide.

Don spun. He'd underestimated Jack Koban. The man was on his feet, lunging toward him, the knife glittering in his hand. Don stepped back and by an incredible piece of bad luck, his heel caught on an uneven spot in the lawn. Tilting backward, he crashed to his shell. Jack uttered a guttural cry of triumph.

It happened in a flash, before Don could draw a breath or react to shield his exposed neck from the blade. He saw Jack's eyes, stretched wide with crazed fury, an instant before he crashed into the turtle's plastron.

The knife dropped from his sagging hand. Donatello's eyes widened. He scrambled out from under Jack's limp form and turned to stare at Beverly. She was standing, her eyes wild, panting, with the bo Don had fashioned for her in her hands.

Don glanced at the fallen man. There was a distinct patch of red spreading through his dark hair where his sister's bo had split his scalp.

"Is he…?" Bev couldn't seem to catch her breath.

Don leaned over, gingerly touching the man's neck.

"He's alive," he said, feeling the steady beat under his fingers.

The bo hit the ground with a _thud_. Beverly swayed, pale. Don rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her just in time to keep her from sliding, boneless to the ground.

"I thought… I thought he'd kill you," she whispered against his plastron.

"Oh Bev," whispered Don. "I'm so sorry."

"I… couldn't let him." Her voice caught on a sob. "I couldn't let him… Oh, Don, I couldn't… I love you."

Warmth surged in Donatello's chest, threatening to overwhelm him. Tears stung his eyes. He wanted to run and shout and sing. He wanted to draw her closer still. He wanted to keep her wrapped up in his arms, safe and warm and close forever. He felt her tremble against him, sobs shaking her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pulling away.

Don held on, keeping her close.

"No, Bev, _I'm_ sorry," he whispered quickly, realizing she'd misunderstood his silence. "I'm such a shell-head. Can you ever forgive me? I… I love you too." The last he whispered, as if it were a secret. He felt himself tremble with exhilaration and a sudden fear.

Her arms came around his shell, drawing him close, clinging. The fear dissolved, replaced by a warm peace. Don felt as if all were right with the world. He never wanted to let her go again.

"I'm sorry, Don," whispered Bev. "For Jack."

"I'm sorry, too, Bev," said Don softly. "I know you care about him. He's your brother."

She sniffed. Reluctantly, she let him go, leaning back slightly to look up into his eyes. "What now?"

"I think you should call that sheriff friend of yours." said Donatello.

Tears slid down Beverly's cheeks. "He'll go to jail," she said softly.

"Are you sure you're going to be OK with that?" asked Don. "Beverly, you know it's the right thing to do."

Beverly glanced at her unconscious brother. "Yes," she said softly. "I've been protecting him for too long. He needs _help_. He can't get it hiding out in the woods."

"Ok," said Don softly. "Bev… about us…"

She laughed, choking on a sob. "What about us, Don? I… I love you. Will you stay with me?"

Donatello gazed into her eyes, longing filling him, warring with the pain that rose, sudden and sharp. "I… I can't, Bev."

He sucked in a breath at the shattered expression that passed over her features.

"I _want_ to," he said quickly, reaching up to caress her cheek. "More than anything in the world. Please understand, I have a family who's counting on me. My brothers…"

"I… I understand," she said softly. Her arms fell away, and she crossed them over her middle, hugging herself as if she would fall to pieces if she didn't hold herself together. "I don't expect you to leave your family."

"Bev, wait…" Donatello felt as though a hollow had opened up in his middle. Without her pressed close, he felt incomplete, lost. He reached toward her almost involuntarily. "Don't be like that. We'll… we'll figure something out…"

Jack moaned, stirring.

"You'd better tie him up," said Beverly. She turned away, but not before Don saw the glitter of tears standing in her eyes. "You'll have to help me put him in the truck. I don't want Andy coming out here. Will you… will you be here when I get back?"

The question hung in the air. Don swallowed hard. He had no reason to stay, really. He was well enough now, to make the journey back to the farmhouse, to return home. _If we can't be together, maybe a clean break would be better,_ he thought.

She turned, meeting his eyes and Donatello caught his breath. Bev's eyebrows rose, and he knew she'd guessed what he was thinking.

"I'll wait for you." The words came out before he realized he was going to speak. She stared at him. He could see her wondering if he was telling the truth. He returned her gaze steadily.

"Bev… I give you my word of honor. I _promise, _I'll wait for you. We'll work this out. Somehow," he said, reaching out to brush his fingers against her hair. Bev reached up, catching his hand in hers. She turned her face and pressed her lips against his palm, sending shivers of pleasure racing down Donatello's spine.

Jack moaned again. Donatello dropped to his knees next to the man, ready to knock him out again if he showed signs of getting up.

"I'll get the rope," said Beverly quietly.

* * *

**A/N: There. Happy now? One chapter to go...**


	30. Chapter 30 Donatello's Defenders

**A/N: Normally I would change back to the others' points of view for this chapter, but after the trouble Don caused me through out this fic, I'm keeping the spotlight on him.**

**Took them long enough. Geesh. And even now, Don's still doubting. _Baka_.**

**_Mikell_: *bops Don and Bev each on the head* **

**_Don and Bev_: *too busy making eyes at one another to notice***

**_Mikell_: *SIGH***

* * *

_Chapter 30 -Donatello's Defenders-  
~~~_

Donatello paced across the room, looking for anything else needing done. Beverly had said she'd get a neighbor with a trailer to come and take Jack's horse to his farm. She took Rufus with her. She was sure Andy would be able to take the dog and give it a good home.

He'd washed the dishes in the sink, changed the sheets on Beverly's bed and tucked the covers neatly around the edge. He'd even cleaned the bathroom. Every evidence of his presence in the little house had been removed. Now there was only himself and the faint scent of strawberries hanging in the air.

_I promised her I'd wait, but what good will it do? She won't come back to the city with me,_ he thought. _She loves it here. She doesn't want to live in the Lair. She's not like Ann and Austin, she didn't grow up in the city. It's not fair to her. I can't ask her to give up her home, everything… It's not right. I should just go before she gets back. She'd get over me, eventually. Find herself some nice human man to be with…_

A little voice at the back of his brain answered.

_Will I ever get over her?_

Donatello shook his head.

_I'm being selfish and stupid,_ he thought. _To even dream of being with someone like Beverly. She could have any man she wants…_

_But she wants you._

_She doesn't know what being with me would mean!_

_Austin is with Mike. Ann is with Raph…_

_Beverly's different._

_You promised. _

Don swore under his breath. He couldn't leave. He'd promised to wait for her. It felt as if he were waiting to have his heart cut from his chest. The anticipation of the pain to come was nearly as bad as the pain itself.

When he heard the roar of an engine and the crunch of gravel in the drive, he frowned. Cautious, he peered out the window, but didn't see a familiar red truck in the driveway. Don backed away from the window.

_Oh shell, who's here? Is it that sheriff again? Bev hasn't been gone long enough to be back already. Anyway, she'd park in the driveway. I'd better make myself scarce._

Hearing footsteps on the porch, he darted upstairs, ducking into Beverly's bedroom. The window overlooked the back porch, he could climb out and drop down to the ground if he had to. He moved his arm, feeling the pull of Beverly's hasty but neat stitches and groaned.

_I'm really in no shape for fancy acrobatics. Maybe he'll just go away._

He heard a soft tap at the front door. Opening the bedroom door a crack, he listened, tense. He heard another tap. After a few minutes, he heard the murmur of voices, and footsteps moving away off the porch. Don breathed a deep sigh of relief.

_I'd better stay up here until Bev gets back,_ he decided. _In case they're still hanging around. _

He backed away from the door and was about to perch on the edge of the bed, when a noise outside the window made him spin. Something was moving on the edge of the porch roof, he could just see the dark figure through the window.

Thinking fast, Don darted out the bedroom door. Halfway to the stairs he hesitated. They'd tried the front door once, but they might still be out there. Someone was breaking into Beverly's house, and he was trapped.

_How can I stop them without being seen?_ he wondered, panic rising in his chest. _She didn't send the sherrif after me... I know she didn't. Who could it be? Who could've found out I'm here? Well, whatever's going on, I won't go down without a fight.  
_  
He slipped down the hall, into the spare bedroom, closing the door all but a crack, and waited.

"I dunno. Nobody's here. Are ya sure it's da right place?"

"The girls said this is the address for the sister. We've got to check it out. It's better to do this while she's not here. We can search the house."

"An' find _what_, exactly, Fearless? Ya t'ink she left us a note sayin' 'dis is where yer brother is?'"

Donatello almost laughed aloud with relief, hearing the familiar voices. He pushed the bedroom door open and stepped out. A blade was pressed to his neck before he could blink. Long association with his brother allowed him to lean back slightly, avoiding being run through with Leonardo's katana.

"_Donny_?" Leo's face was frozen with shock.

Don cleared his throat. "Hiya Leo," he said faintly.

The sword was withdrawn as quickly as it'd appeared, and Don found himself wrapped up in a crushing embrace.

"Don, we've looked everywhere for you! Are you ok, Bro? You're not hurt?" Leo leaned back, gripping Donatello's shoulders, looking him over anxiously. Behind him, Raphael was scowling, his sai clenched in his hands.

"Where've you _been_, Brainiac?" he asked. "We been all over these woods searchin' for ya."

"I'm ok. I was here, with Beverly," admitted Don. "Shell, I missed you guys! But Leo…" he winced, squirming slightly. "You're hurting my arm."

"Don! What'd you do?" Leonardo's eyes narrowed behind his mask as he took in the fresh white bandage wrapping his brother's bicep.

"Jack Koban," said Don. "Beverly's brother. He's a lunatic. He stuck me with a hunting knife. I'm ok, though," he added quickly, seeing the worry flicker in Leonardo's eyes. "Bev stitched me up. She's gone to take Jack to the sheriff. She should be back any minute."

"Don, I don't know what's been going on, but let's get out of here," said Leo. "You can tell us all about it on the way home."

"Wait…" Donatello swallowed hard, meeting his brother's eyes. "I can't go. Not yet."

"What?" Leonardo was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Donny, oh _shell _I'm glad you're ok… Sensei's worried sick. We've got to get you home."

"I… I promised her, Leo. I swore I'd still be here when she got back."

Leo frowned.

"I _promised_," insisted Don quietly.

"Donny…"

"I… I want you to meet her," said Don. "Leo, she… she saved my life. She saved me from Jack. She's been helping me…"

Whatever Leonardo might have said in reply was cut off by a shout from downstairs.

"What are you people doing here? Wait a minute, I know you! You're… O'Neil! A _reporter_! How did the city news get a hold of this story already? Never mind, I don't care. Just get out! Get off my property before I call the sheriff!"

"Bev," said Don, starting toward the stairs. A firm hand on his arm stopped his forward progress.

"Donatello," Leo started to protest, but Don pulled away.

"Leo, it's _ok_. She's my friend… Leo… I love her," he said, looking into Leonardo's eyes. He saw the shock cross the leader's face before he turned and headed down the stairs. Don rushed out the front door. He almost laughed when he saw the scene unfolding before him.

April, Austin and Ann were standing in the driveway, blocking Beverly's way into the house. Beverly had taken the fighting stance Don had taught her. Her eyes snapped with fury.

Ann was standing to one side, her fists clenched and her eyes snapping. April and Austin stood close together, forming a wall between Bev and her own front door. Don heard Austin speak to April.

"We've got to keep her occupied until the guys have time to get out," she hissed.

"What if she has Don?" asked April in the same low tone.

"Then we'll take her _down_," answered Austin.

Donatello cleared his throat. "As nice as it is to have you all fighting over me," he said. "It really isn't necessary. I'm right here and I'm fine."

Austin, Ann and April spun, staring at Donatello as if they'd seen a ghost. Austin launched herself across the space, crashing into Don's plastron and wrapping him up in a wild hug.

"Donny!" she cried. "We've been worried _sick_ about you!"

"Hamato Donatello, where have you _been?_" demanded April, her hands on her hips, glaring.

"No! You stay away from him!" shouted Ann. Don looked up, his eyes widening as he saw Ann tackle Beverly, who'd started toward him. The two women were rolling on the ground, scratching and punching.

"Hey!" Don shouted, disentangling himself from Austin. Austin took the opportunity to dive into the cat-fight, pouncing on Beverly and trying to pull her off Ann.

"Leo, Raph, help!" Don shouted over his shoulder. He reached down, catching Beverly's arm. Austin's wild swing caught him neatly on the jaw and he staggered back, but held on to Bev, determined, and hauled her to her feet, backing away from the advancing, angry Austin. Don quickly put himself between the two furious women as Leo rushed over to catch Austin's arm.

"Wait! Wait, both of you!" Donatello cried.

Raphael stood on the porch, a wide smirk crossing his face.

"What'd ya stop 'em for, Don? Dis is kinda interestin'," he drawled.

Donatello shot his brother a glare. "It's _not funny_, Raph," he snapped. "Ann, Austin, let me explain! Beverly's my friend! She's been helping me!"

Ann climbed to her feet, her brown eyes dark with fury. Austin glared, but her fists came down. She shook out of Leo's grasp.

"Helping?" she asked.

"Yes. Jack caught me in the woods. He… well, I was trapped. Bev got me out."

"Donatello, who _are_ these people?" snapped Beverly, jerking away from Don.

He turned to face her with a sheepish grin. "Bev, this is my family," he said. "This is Austin, she's my _shimai,_ my sister… well, my sister-in-law, technically. And Ann, my other sister; she's with the big idiot there on the porch. April's the other friend I told you about. O'Neil's her maiden name, Bev. She's April O'Neil-Jones now."

"April O'Neil, the big-city reporter, is your _friend_?" asked Beverly, looking bewildered.

"April's like a sister to all of us," said Don, grinning. "Guys, this is Beverly. Beverly Koban."

"What a minute, _what?_" Ann's brown eyes snapped with fury. "She's related to that _nut_? He kidnapped me, Don, and that dog bit Mikey!"

"What? Are you Ok, Ann? And Mikey?" It was Don's turn to stare. "Where's Mikey? Is he ok?"

"He's fine," said Austin. "They're both fine." She came forward, touching Don's arm as if to make sure he was real. Leo, seeing she wasn't attacking Beverly again, let her go. "Mike was looking for you and he ran into that awful man's dog. It bit him but he got away. April stitched his leg. He's going to be fine, Don, I promise. We left him at the farmhouse with Splinter."

"Mikey… I can't believe it," Don rubbed a hand over his face.

"Don-san, he's going to be ok," said Austin. "Come on. Let's get home. You can check him out for yourself." She took his arm possessively.

Beverly glared, crossing her arms over her chest.

Don glanced at Bev, then at his sisters.

"Wait. Please. Let me introduce you all properly. Bev, I'm so sorry for all this," he said. He took his arm gently from Austin, and wrapped it around Beverly's shoulders. She stood stiffly for an instant before leaning against him, accepting his embrace.

"Bev, like I said, these are my sisters. And my brothers. That's Raphael," he pointed to the red-masked turtle. Raph stepped down off the porch and came over to wrap an arm around Ann's waist. "Sorry fer my girl," he said, smirking. "She's a little hot-tempered."

"I was _worried_ about Donny," snapped Ann. She glared at Beverly, unforgiving. Bev returned her glare. Don swallowed reflexively. He tightened his grasp slightly about Bev's waist, half thinking to hold her back if the girls tried fighting again.

"Like I said," he muttered. "My brother. And this is Leonardo."

Beverly turned to look at the blue-masked turtle who watching everything with narrowed eyes. He came closer, looking her up and down as if assessing her. She noticed handles sticking up from behind his shell, and wondered what type of weapons he was carrying.

"It's nice to… meet you, Miss Koban," he said formally. "I apologize for my _shimai,_ my sisters." He glanced at the girls. "We've all been worried about Donatello."

His calm gaze flicked to Raphael who was still smirking and he reached out to touch Austin's arm. She glanced at him and some of the tension went out of her. April came to stand at his other side.

"Thank you for taking care of my brother," said Leonardo, giving her a short bow and a long look from those unfathomable dark eyes.

Beverly straightened. "It was the least I could do," she said. "Don's a good person. He's strong."

Something like anger flickered in her gaze and Leonardo's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"I know."

"He fought Jack," said Beverly. "He risked his own life to save me. He could've killed Jack. He probably should have, after what my brother put him through, but he didn't. He let me take him to the sheriff instead." Her chin came up, as if she were challenging Leonardo to disparage the decision.

Leo nodded. "We never kill unnecessarily," he said quietly. "Life is precious. Honor demands that we protect it, even in people who might do us harm."

Beverly looked deeply shocked at the answer. She glanced at Don. He met her gaze and smiled.

"I told you," he said softly.

Bev's eyes stung with sudden tears. "Oh, Don," she whispered, hugging him. "I'm going to miss you _so much_."

"Bev…" Don was shaking. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, drawing her close as if he'd never let her go. "I don't want to leave you," he whispered.

She sniffed. "You don't have to, you know," she whispered. "You could… stay."

"You know I can't," he told her. He reached up, cupping her chin with his hand. "Bev, they're my brothers. My _family_. I can't leave them. I want… I want you to meet Mikey. And our father, Splinter. Bev… I…" Tears slid down his cheeks.

"I'll go with you," she said softly.

"What?"

"If you want me. If you really mean it, I'll… I'll go with you. Back to the city." She met his eyes steadily.

Donatello stared, shocked. "Bev, I…"

"Donatello. You told me… your brother, Mike, he's married. To… Austin?" she glanced at the brown-haired girl still watching them, looking stunned. "And Raphael and Ann. They're together, too, aren't they?" The red-banded turtle smiled, drawing Ann a little closer to his side.

"Yes, but…"

"Well… I love you. I _want_ to be with you, whatever that means. Donatello, I… I can't lose you. I've waited my whole life to find you. I'm not letting you go so easily. Don… will you… will you marry me?"

Don stared into her eyes for a long moment, shock rendering him speechless. He saw the hurt and uncertainty flicker through her eyes and pain spiked in his chest. He never wanted to cause that hurt to mar her beauty, ever again.

"Oh, Beverly," he whispered. "Of course I will."

He leaned forward and warm lips pressed against his mouth. Donatello melted against her. He never heard Raphael's raucous laughter or Leonardo telling Raph to shut it. He saw stars and heard a chorus of angels, nothing more in the world mattered.

When Beverly broke the kiss, Don staggered a bit, still reeling from the shock.

"Wow," he whispered.

She grinned cheekily into his eyes.

"I guess that's a yes, then?" she whispered.

Don laughed, gathering her up and swinging her around. "Oh, yeah," he yelled, dissolving into helpless laughter.

Ann sniffed. "Well, welcome to the family, I guess. Sorry for, you know, jumping on you and all."

"Yeah, me, too," said Austin. Her hazel eyes never left Beverly's face. "If you make Donny happy, you're one of us." She leaned in closer. "But just remember, if you ever hurt him, you'll _answer_ to us."

April was smiling, but something in her eyes… A faint frown crossed Beverly's face.

"What about the reporter?" she asked.

"I'm happy for him," said April. "Like Austin said, just… make him happy."

Bev met the woman's eyes. "I intend to," she said quietly.

April smiled. "That's all we ask."

Leonardo cleared his throat. "We should be going," he said. Mike and Splinter'll be worried."

"Are you sure about this, Bev?" asked Don. He glanced at the house. "I mean, if you come with me, you'll be leaving your home behind. We could come visit, but…"

"Don, wherever I am, as long as I'm with you, I'll be home," said Beverly. "Will we have time to come back for a few of my things?"

Don glanced at Leo. "I'm sure that can be arranged," said the blue-banded turtle with a smile. "Come on, let's go."

The family trooped toward the Battle Shell. Donatello stopped suddenly, turning to Bev with a mischievous grin.

"What?" she asked. She let out a little shriek as Donatello scooped her up.

"I'm carrying off the fair maiden," he whispered. "Isn't that what the Prince is supposed to do?"

She laughed as he carried her into the Battle Shell.

* * *

**A/N: All together now... "D'awwwwwwwww!" **

**heh**

**Epilogue goes up tomorrow, with thanks to the reviewers as always. Leonardo's Angel isn't quite finished... But I feel confident enough with my progress to go ahead and start posting right after Donatello Lost is complete. Don't be sad, you'll see more of Don and Beverly in Leo's Angel. Mike and Austin and Raph and Ann too, of course. :) It's a family fic. heh  
**


	31. Epilogue Ever After

_Epilogue _

_-Ever After-  
~~~_

In the end, Beverly won the argument.

Donatello stood in the middle of the living room at the farmhouse, wondering how the _shell_ he let her talk him into this and how he'd gotten roped into not only coming back to the farmhouse a mere eight months after his ordeal with her brother, but allowing her to bring the sheriff _here_ to meet them all.

***

"_He's a family friend. I trust him," Beverly insisted._

"_Bev, he's a _cop_." Don stared at her as if she'd gone straight out of her mind._

"_I've known Andy Wilson my entire life," she argued. "Don. You've got to trust me." She came close, taking his hands in her own. "I promise, it'll be ok."_

"Bev…"

_She kissed him then and all Don's common sense, all his carefully thought out arguments, everything vaguely resembling cognizant thought, flew straight out the window as his arms came automatically around her waist and his insides seemed to melt._

"_Don. Please," she whispered against his skin. "Give him a chance."_

"_You'll have to convince Leo and Master Splinter," he said finally, swallowing hard. _

***

Hiding behind Fearless and Splinter seemed like a good idea at the time. She couldn't very well kiss either of _them_ into submission. He'd severely underestimated Beverly Koban.

"My son." Splinter's voice snapped Donatello out of his reverie.

"Father." Don swallowed, fidgeting.

"I do not believe you will be needing this, Donatello." Splinter gently took Don's bo out of his hands.

Don held on instinctively for an instant before relinquishing the weapon.

"Sorry, Sensei," he muttered, staring at the floor. "I just… Are you _sure _this is a good idea?"

"Donatello. We have discussed this at length. Why is your spirit not settled, my son? Do you not trust the woman you propose to marry?"

"It's… it's not that, Father," said Don. "It's just… this man is a _policeman_. You've always taught us to stay in the shadows, out of sight. She's bringing him _here_…"

"Donatello. You have known Miss Beverly for eight months. She has given up everything, her life here, to live with us in the city. Do you still wish to marry her?"

"Yes, Sensei, you know I do."

"And do you respect her?" Black eyes bored into Don's own.

"Yes, Father," he said softly.

"Donatello. She wishes to be married in the fashion of her culture. Your brother was fortunate to find a pastor to perform the service for himself and Austin. Beverly trusts this man, as her friend, to do this for her. When you entered a relationship with this woman, you placed us all into her hands."

"But what if he betrays us?" Donatello finally voiced the fear that had his stomach clenching.

_What if he turns us in and it's all my fault?_

"There is always a danger in trusting, my son," said Splinter gently. "Do you believe your intended mate would risk our family's safety lightly?"

"No," admitted Don reluctantly.

"Then trust in her judgment, Donatello. As I have chosen to trust _yours._" He touched Don's arm lightly. Donatello looked into his father's eyes and swallowed hard.

"_Hai,_ Sensei," he whispered with a short bow.

Splinter smiled. "You are not the only one who will be nervous about this meeting," he told Don. "I am afraid this young man is in for a shock."

Donatello smiled for the first time since Beverly left to pick Andy up. "Yeah," he said. "I guess he is."

***

All told, Andy Wilson took meeting Beverly's fiancée's family rather well. Sure, he got a little light-headed when the rat appeared, speaking gravely to him with a Japanese accent. And the big turtle with the dark skin and eerie amber eyes had him reaching for the empty holster where his gun would've been, if Beverly hadn't insisted he come unarmed. He was grateful for her advice when he saw Raphael's eyes following his every move. If he'd drawn a gun, he had a feeling he would never have had a chance to pull the trigger before those odd three-pronged weapons drove the life from his chest.

Once he was over the initial shock, though, he was deeply honored by the very civilized welcome he received from the Hamato clan. He shook Don's hand, manfully swallowing his pride and accepting the fact that his one-time sweetheart was marrying another. Not even another _man_, but a turtle.

"It's... um... nice to meet you, Don," he said, swallowing hard. The turtle's hand was strong in his grip, leathery and firm. Don's brown eyes met Andy's gaze steadily.

"Likewise," he said.

Something in his eyes... Andy smiled ruefully. "You're a lucky guy," he said.

Donatello relaxed, the tension easing from his shoulders. Releasing the sheriff's hand, he slipped a muscular arm around Bev's waist. "Yeah," he answered, glancing at his intended. "I really am."

After that, the ice broke between the two. Andy sat on the couch, amazed at how quickly he'd gotten used to the family's outward appearance, and listened to the story of how they came to be. He was fascinated, but finally he couldn't contain himself any longer.

"And how, exactly, did you and Bev meet, Donatello?" he asked.

A ripple of tension ran through the little family. For an instant, Andy was nervous. What had he said wrong?

Donatello looked at Bev, took a deep breath, and started talking.

"I actually met Jack first," he said quietly. Beverly saved my life."

As the story came out about the kidnapping, Andy listened, watching Donatello. He noticed the turtle didn't fill in many details of his imprisonment and began to suspect he hadn't told Beverly half of what Jack had done.

_He doesn't want to hurt her,_ he realized. _I've never met anyone as strong and caring as he seems to be. This might be weird, but she really seems happy. And he really does seem to love her._

Over the next couple days, Andy found himself seeking out the purple-masked ninja's company. He liked Don's quiet demeanor and calm intelligence. Andy saw the reverent gentleness with which he treated Beverly. It didn't take long for him to understand how deeply in love she was. He'd agreed to the secrecy Beverly demanded at first as a concession to their long-time friendship, but as he got to know the family, he knew he would've given them his absolute loyalty even if they'd met in other circumstances.

_They're good people,_ he thought._ Even if Bev isn't marrying into a conventional family, I know she'll be taken good care of. She deserves a chance at happiness. I'm just glad I'm getting to be a part of this._

The wedding preparations didn't take long. Beverly wanted to wear her mother's gown. April, Ann and Austin would serve as bridesmaids, while the boys would be Don's groomsmen. Andy gulped a bit when it came out that a seven-foot tall, bipedal, talking crocodile would be Donatello's best man, but when he heard LeatherHead speak for the first time, the soothing rumble of his voice reassured Andy that at least the guests wouldn't become snacks at the reception.

The addition of the crocodilian made for an uneven number of attendants, but Leatherhead assured them that he would be happy to serve for the ceremony and sit out for the dancing, anyway, as his claws would only damage the rented parquet dance floor.

The next shock came when Andy realized the sheer size of the wedding. He'd expected a simple, very private ceremony. Instead he was amazed to find that the mutant family had a guest list nearly a hundred long. The day would prove interesting indeed.

***

Beverly adjusted the satin sleeve, tenderly tucking the edge of the lace back under a fold.

_I wish you were here, Mom_, she thought. _I think you would've liked him._

She brushed one stubborn curl back, tucking it behind her ear again. April offered to help with her hair, but Beverly'd refused. She hadn't quite forgiven the other girls for their initial distrust, though she was slowly warming to April and it was hard not to like the soft-spoken Austin.

_That Ann, though, she's something else again. I see why she gets along with Raphael so well, they both seem to have a temper problem._

"Leave it," said a soft voice, causing her to turn, startled. "I like your curls hanging loose."

"Donatello! You're not supposed to see me yet," she scolded, smiling.

Her breath caught in her throat. He looked amazing. He was wearing what she knew now to be a traditional Japanese hakama. The short kimono was deep purple, accented neatly by the lighter purple pants. Bev had been fascinated when Don explained the seven pleats represented the seven principals of bushido.

"Yeah, well, I couldn't wait any longer." He moved closer, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and nuzzling the side of her neck.

Beverly shivered, leaning back against him.

"Are you sure about this, Beverly?" he whispered against her skin.

She turned, wrapping her arms firmly around his shoulders and gazed into his face.

"Don. I'm _sure._ Are you?"

"I've been sure since I first laid eyes on you," he whispered.

"Oh yeah?" she frowned, skeptical, but a grin tugged at her lips, she couldn't help it. He was just so _cute_ when he was blushing.

"Yeah. I thought I was dreaming."

Bev shivered, remembering the hopeless fear she'd seen in his brown eyes that day in the barn.

_Has it really only been eight months since I met him? I feel as though we've been together for a lifetime._

"And now?"

"Now… I _know_ I'm dreaming," he said softly. "And I never want to wake up."

"Oh, Donatello," she whispered. She nuzzled his neck and was rewarded by a soft, hitching gasp. Teasing, she trailed gentle kisses along his collarbone at the edge of his plastron. "I love you, Hamato Donatello," she whispered.

"I love you, Beverly Koban," he answered. He drew a shaky breath. "Are you sure you're not going to regret this? We're not… rushing things, are we?"

"Don," she leaned back to gaze into his eyes. "I spent years searching for you."

His eyes widened. "Oh?"

"Yep. I've been sitting by the fountain all this time," she whispered. "Waiting for my prince to come."

"Oh, Beverly…" Donatello smiled. "Sorry I took so long."

Bev sniffed. "I never did like waiting."

"I'll try to be more punctual from now on," he whispered.

She grinned. "You can start by getting out there. You're going to be late for your own wedding."

"What? Oh no!"

Don looked so flustered, Beverly giggled.

_Yep. He's definitely cute when he's blushing_.

Giving him one more cheeky grin, she took him by the hand.

"Come on, Romeo, let's go." she said gently. "Just lean on me."

She shrieked as he scooped her up, returning her grin full-force.

"No way," he said, leaning close to kiss her. "The prince is supposed to carry off the princess, remember?"

Bev laughed. "You are _such_ a corn-ball, Romeo."

"Yeah, but you're my Juliet."

She leaned into his plastron, tipping her head back to nuzzle his neck, enjoying the shiver that ran through him.

"Do you believe in happily ever after, Don?"

He smiled as she gazed into his soft brown eyes.

"I do, now Bev. I really do."

* * *

_**And they lived happily ever after...  
**  
(Yeah, you guessed it. "At least until the next fic...")_

* * *

**A/N: Oh, now that was just too cute for words. heh I loved writing Donny into a relationship... He's so cautious and shy, but I believe he's the kind of man who would love deeply and with all his heart. It took him a while, but once he's in love, it's for good. **

**Onward... Many thanks to the multitude of reviewers. You guys absolutely rock, and have made this fic more fun than should be legal. **

**I'm really excited about Leonardo's Angel, the last book in the series. It feels like the culmination of the stories... the completion of the family. I hope you'll all enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.**

**One last time, thanks to my beta-readers, raphfreak, 54 Viruses and also Melody Winters who has read over a few chaps for me of various fics. You gals all ROCK OUT LOUD as always. Also to Duckie Pray for her read of a pivotal chap of Leo's Angel and her kind words of support.**

**

* * *

****As always, many thanks to the reviewers:**

**_xLannyx _for "pocket-sized Donny", which made me laugh so hard I nearly hurt myself  
_Candelight _for being an inspiration and one of the most talented writers I've met in a long time  
_Fantasyfan4ever _for calling Don a "knight in shining shell" lol  
_DuckiePray _for writing even more evil cliffhangers than my own (EVERYONE- go read Buried!!)  
_Kyaserin Marii _for the mental image of Don singing "Hello Darlin'" which made me burst randomly into hysterical laughter for days.  
_TigerToa _for holding tight to the happy ending  
_AlyssaFelixa _for wanting villains to come to a sticky end  
_54Viruses _for faithful beta-reading, for calling Donnie a "dunderhead" and for letting her inner fan-girl loose.  
_Scribe of Turesa _for encouraging me to take drastic measures  
_mariarosa _for threatening Jack's manhood (LOL)  
_xS. E. Raglandx _for her heart racing during "horrible" scenes  
_AJsHellCat _for bringing Don coffee in the barn  
_WebMistressGina _for popping in to review  
_Nightwatcher'sUnknownGirl _for getting excited. ;)  
_MewSakura _for not wanting Donny tortured (Don appreciates the sentiment as well) heh  
_Ramica_ for vocabulary lessons  
_MelodyWinters _for being a great writer, an amazing artist and a dear friend  
_Polaris'05 _for getting through (almost) the whole fic without yelling ;)  
_allithea _for calling this her daily "fix" lol  
_sait4soreyes _for putting the "happy endings mantra" into effect  
_Nala162024_ for calling Jack a "crazed murderer"  
_Jemz16 _for reading the whole series  
_Eridani23 _for promising to keep up. ;)  
_stylin-cute_ for calling Jack a "psycho dude" lol  
_Fyrefly_ for wanting Don to warm up to Bev  
_April101 _for guessing Beverly is related to April (sorry, no. lol)  
_1woof1_ for a kind review  
_The Happy Stalker Ball_ for loving Jars of Clay****_sabra jaguar  
BlackShuriken _for "shame on you" (yelling at me for all I put Donny through) ;)_  
FairDrea _for becoming a Don fan *sends Raph to FD's* heh****_  
CindySilverwhip_ for wanting a liquid version of the fic (ROFLOL)_  
Kolaida _for betting Donny could get used to Bev's massages. heh  
_GoddessHanyuu _for loving the story  
_Repicheep22 _for getting fuzzy over the Don/Bev fluff  
_dreamer_ for a kind review  
_drunken . lotus _for encouragement**


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